


you can see the world you brought to life

by streimel



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2013-2014 NHL Season, 2014 IIHF Ice Hockey World Championships, 2014 Winter Olympics, 2014-2015 NHL Season, Age Difference, Getting Together, M/M, Mpreg, Pittsburgh Penguins, Secret Relationship, Unplanned Pregnancy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-03
Updated: 2018-02-13
Packaged: 2019-02-27 17:12:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 50,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13252824
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/streimel/pseuds/streimel
Summary: They’re winning games like nobody's business, he and Olli are turning into something great, and Geno feels happier than he has in a long time, maybe ever. There’s a sense of invincibility, the optimism of a new season, of how a fresh start can be formed by them, created into whatever they want it to be. Geno feels like there’s nothing that can stop them.He should know better by now.Or: how Geno learns the phrase "best laid plans".





	1. follow me, through the dark

**Author's Note:**

> warnings at the end
> 
> This week on It Could Happen to You: local writer swore she'd never write mpreg, much less read it, yet here she is...
> 
> This story is completely, totally about a male pregnancy; viewer discretion is advised.
> 
> This might be one of the longest things I have ever written, and it took me a good 9 months (lol) because I abandoned it twice and came back because it wouldn't let me write anything else until I was done with it. In a way, this is my baby.
> 
> Lots of creative liberties taken, but I've tried to stay loyal to timelines and events as much as possible. Only things really fudged were dates of certain games, some plans they actually did but I changed, and the fact of Olli being able to have babies. 
> 
> title from Love Me Like You Do by Ellie Goulding
> 
> Thanks for reading!

Geno hears about him in passing, in the way most news of first-rounders passes through the team; two d-men, taken in the first round, picks meant to stabilize their blueline. He doesn't think about it one time for the rest of the summer. He's busy dealing with the double heartbreak of being knocked out of the playoffs by the Flyers along with whatever hell Oksana is putting him through, medicating it with heavy doses of nights in the clubs and days at the gun range, shooting at targets as if they were his problems. The last thing he wants to think about until September is hockey.

The eventual lockout to begin the season was so expected, he didn’t waste his time booking a ticket back to Pittsburgh. He stays at home, running a clinic in the KHL and spending way too much time with the lingering presence of Oksana, dragging out something they both know has been a long time coming. When he gets the news the lockout is over, his flight is booked in less than ten minutes; he leaves with kisses for mama, Geoffrey, Oksana in that order, all with the same sad eyes, each for their own reasons. When summer comes again, less than six months later, the brakes on his ride of momentum lock up. The Bruins make a fool of him, of the whole goddamn team, and by the time he rolls back into Moscow on a mild June night, Oksana isn't interested in helping him dull the pain.  
  
Summer ebbs by, shadows lurking throughout the long days to remind him of all the failures he’s already endured throughout the first six months of the year. When September rolls around, he's more than eager to get back to Pittsburgh; he needs everything to be brand new again, immediately. The team's ready to show up after seasons of disappointing playoff losses, and he feels free in a way he hasn't been in a long time. He gets back home, turning on the lights in his house for the first time in months, and drops on the couch in the den like he was never away at all.

The loneliness doesn't take long to come crawling back, like it dragged itself across the ocean to find him. He takes one long look around the empty house, and something feels so slightly off, he can’t put his finger on it. He picks up Oksana’s hairbrush, left on what was her side of the bathroom, and an overwhelming urge to call her blooms, the lingering bad habit, the leftover impulse of too much time and not enough restraint, and he scrubs his hands over his face, looking in the mirror at himself and feeling pathetic.  
  
He throws himself into camp, relishing the burn in his lungs and the way it chases away every thought but the way his skates cut into the ice as he crosses over, deking past a rookie he doesn't know as he turns his sights on Flower, already crouched in his crease. The intensity isn't quite like a real game, but it's better than one-off summer practices. The wind resists, pushing back at his body as he rushes forward, and he feels more alive than he has all year.  
  
He draws his stick back, ready for a slap shot, when the puck goes skittering away towards the boards. A crowd of cheers and laughs rises from the guys watching at the sides, and as the play stops, he looks around to see who got him. It's one of the kids from last year’s draft - he knows both of them are still hanging around, surviving the first roster trims, and that the staff is deciding if one or both should stay. When he got to the rink this morning, he’d heard both of them had worked their way from Group C to Group A, working with Scuds, so he’s not exactly surprised they might be able to keep up with him.  
  
Maatta doesn't look particularly smug, though Geno wouldn't blame him if he did. Instead, he looks almost shocked, like he can’t believe he just got into a puck battle with Evgeni Malkin and won. With everyone watching, Geno skates closer, until he can tap his stick once against Maatta's, resting loose in his hand against the ice.  
  
"Good job," Geno says, eyebrows raised high in faux surprise, "but why they not tell me today is little kid’s camp?"  
  
Everyone in earshot breaks down into laughter, but it’s Maatta's grin that makes him feel the warmest. Geno pushes at his shoulder, and they skate off to the sides, ready for their next drills. They go up against each other a few more times, Geno coming out of most of their run-ins the better, and each time Maatta gives him this little shy smile. Geno remembers the first time he played with the big names, guys he had watched for years, and he smiles to himself at how cute this kid is being. In a few years, when the novelty’s worn off and he’s made it to the show, Geno makes a mental note to chirp the shit out of him for it.

* * *

As it is, Maatta remains for the beginning of the season, and earns his job so soundly there’s no doubt about him staying up after his first nine games. They need him, badly, the D something of a train wreck after the top 3, and he fits right in the slot they put him in with Bortz. He settles in relatively well, taking everything in stride, not letting it go to his head. Geno doesn't know too much about the rest of the teams in the league and how they do it, but they don't necessarily like to give too much shit to their rookies here, as long as they remember their place, and Olli seems to walk that line perfectly. Even when the guys realize Olli's the first drafted Penguin to start playing immediately after their first camp since Sid and himself, Olli just puts on a smile when the guys call him part of the trinity, Holy Maatta.

They see each other in passing, friendly enough. Olli gravitates toward Jussi, which is understandable, and then to Beau and Bortz, and hangs off every word Paulie and Tanger seem to say, but they don't generally run in the same circles. Geno talks to Olli a few times, but he doesn't think anything about it until Sid starts off-handedly mentioning Olli all the time.

"Just, all things considered, he's really grounded for his age, you know?" Sid is saying, flinging pucks at the empty net as practice is ending and the ice is clearing out, and Geno leans on his stick, resting his chin on his gloves.

"Why you always talk about Olli now? Always Olli this, Olli that. Girlfriend get jealous soon," he tries joking, but Sid gives him a pointed look, shooting a no-look wrister into the back of the net.

"Just, you know, management wanted me to talk with him, so we've been getting lunch once or twice a week," Sid says, scooping up a puck and balancing it on the curve of his stick. Sid's not actually distracted, but he's trying to convince Geno he is.

"Why?"

He feels the room’s pretty welcoming, across the board - everyone does their part to help make trades or rookies feel like part of the team, part of the city. Everyone's always ready, for the most part, to help out someone new, Sid especially, so it's not exactly the strangest thing to have Sid talk to Olli here and there, for advice and what not. But one-on-one lunch as a recurring thing is something else altogether.

"Huh, well," Sid begins, not meeting his eye. "You know, just to help him adjust to rookie life. He went right up to the league, so they want me to make sure he's feeling comfortable with the transition, just because, you know, I did it, too."

Geno’s not exactly offended, neither by the fact Sid's very obviously leaving something out, nor the fact that management didn't ask him to help; this is Sid’s _thing_ , helping out people, going out of his way to help out people in ways the rest of them wouldn’t dream of doing. Still, Geno would think he might better understand, being so far away from home, living in a completely different country halfway across the world. He wasn't much older than Olli is now when he started, but he did at least play pro in Russia before he came, so coming straight to the league wasn’t a huge jump. On the drive home from the rink, he decides for himself he's going to help out with Olli’s transition.

Olli still goes out with them, even though he can't drink, at least legally. There are more than a few places that wouldn't ask questions or would at least look the other way if the team started plying Olli with drinks, but Olli doesn't seem to want to rock the boat. Sid looks like a proud mother one night when Olli turns down a drink straight from the bartender, taking a cranberry and seltzer instead.

He talks when spoken to, listens to every word the rest of them ever have to say, eyes moving from person to person as they talk, and that’s about it, for the first two months. He’s just kind of _there_.

He does have these rare moments where he opens up, cracks a joke, laughs too loud, but mostly, he’s just present. Because of the schedules they’re running and just Olli’s shyness in general, Geno doesn’t manage to talk to him one-on-one until it’s almost November. He’s out, a rarity at this point in his career, losing a bet about the Kings’ game to Beau and subsequently responsible for the bar tab for the group of seven they came with tonight. Beau is unsuccessfully trying to get a dart anywhere near the board across the bar, Bortz and Tish dying laughing at the attempt. Duper and Tanger are speaking in rough, angry French on the other side of the booth, mostly on Tanger’s end, but from every name Geno catches, he can tell it’s just about the Steelers’ season.

And then there’s Olli, nursing a seltzer and lime beside him, watching ESPN highlights without sound or captioning on the TV across the room.

“So,” Geno says, feeling suddenly unsure of why he was so sure he needed to do this in the first place. “What you think about America?”

It takes a moment for Olli to realize he’s been spoken to. He tears away from some college basketball recaps and looks at Geno a little blankly. “Uh, it’s nice. I like the city, I guess. It’s good.”

“Different from home,” he suggests, and Olli kind of makes a weird face, as if he wants to disagree but is too polite.

“Yeah, I guess? It’s pretty much like Canada. I mean, it’s bigger than London but, yeah, everything’s pretty much the same.”

Right. He remembered hearing at one time Olli had played junior in North America, but had kind of forgotten about it along the way. So maybe Olli wasn’t as unprepared for this as he had been, but that didn’t mean Sid got to commandeer him just because.

“Remember now. Knew your English too good. Or maybe you just smart,” Geno says, and Olli goes pink, just a little.

“No, no, it’s okay. Being in London helped a lot. I still get- it’s still hard sometimes, though.”

“I’m here eight years, I’m little bit have hard time always. You sound good all the time,” Geno compliments, and Olli is really, really pink now.

“Thanks, Geno.”

“I’m know, it’s hard sometimes. Just, no one speak with you. Everyone speak English and you want one conversation how you speak. Want to turn on radio and hear music that not in English. Or TV. Or go Giant Eagle and buy food from home. It’s tough life some days.”

Olli just looks at him for a moment, then looks at the cup he’s turning in his hands. “Yeah, it’s- I mean this is my dream. I really like it here, and I like it in Canada, but, yeah- sometimes I wish I could just, like, find a sauna, a real one. Like, at home, they’re every 10 meters, and here you just have shitty ripoff ones in hotels, it’s not the same. I wouldn’t change it for anything, and luckily I have Skype and stuff so I can talk to my family and friends but-”

Olli trails off, not finishing the rest of his thought, and Geno feels like an idiot, wondering if the nerve he just touched was too much. Olli keeps spinning his glass in his hand, but he doesn’t look upset. Then again, Geno’s known enough Finnish people to not expect outward signs of emotion in the first place.

After a few minutes of empty silence, Geno tries talking about something completely different. “Why you come here? You don’t drink.”

He realizes how accusing it sounds when Olli kind of gives him a hopeless look, like he doesn’t know if he’s being yelled at or not. He tries to explain, tripping over his own tongue. “Just, not fun, you know? Watch us get drunk and have to drink juice.”

Olli seems to ease up at the explanation. “It’s okay. Watching you guys get drunk is entertaining, and it’s better than being stuck in a hotel. I don’t have to drink to have fun.”

“Says Finn. Believe when I see,” Geno snorts into his own gin and tonic, and Olli _blushes_ all over.

Geno’s mouth goes dry for a moment, for a reason he can’t quite put a finger on, and he feels like he’s in a trance. Olli does this thing, where his eyes flutter shut for a moment when he’s embarrassed, and he watches him for what feels like an eternity before Olli opens them again, Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows.

“I can always drink at my place. You can come over and do it with me there, if you want.”

Geno knows Olli didn’t mean to say it like that, to double speak, but he’s about three gin and tonics in, and his mouth works a little quicker than his brain at this point.

“Not even have first date and you try get me in your place? Very brave rookie, you know?” Geno teases, squeezing Olli’s knee beneath the table and Olli looks the most adorable mix of mortified and confused.

Olli only manages to stutter out “what the fuck, Geno” before laughing and covering his face when Beau drops down on his other side, drawing his attention away. When Geno looks around the table, he sees Duper looking between him and Olli, one eyebrow raised in question. He drains the rest of his gin and tonic and makes his excuses, leaving them some hundreds for the tab and squeezing Olli’s shoulder before shooting him a wink that leaves Olli coughing into his glass.

Olli stops him before he gets to the door.

“Hey, listen- sorry for being weird back there-” Olli starts, and Geno puts a hand on his shoulder.

“It’s okay, all rookies weird.”

Olli opens and closes his mouth, trying to speak and not laugh at the same time. “Geno. I guess I basically had another set of parents in London, a family really, but it’s different here. I don’t really miss Finland, in a way, but I do miss having a family. It’s hard to make friends here because it’s like you all know each other from before and I’m the odd man out. But I- I appreciate what everyone’s doing for me. I mean, you’re Evgeni Fucking Malkin, if you told me to fuck off every time you saw me I would understand. Thanks for being nice to me.”

Geno feels some small part of his heart open, slowly, and before he can slam it shut, Olli’s words rush in, filling it up. Geno wants to drag Olli into his arms right here, forget everyone coming and going from this bar, and just hold him. Like the new kid at school, Olli was obviously just trying to find out where to sit in the cafeteria, and yeah, he’s kind of got Jussi around to help, but Olli doesn’t have someone like he had Seryozha, or like Sid had Mario. Olli’s pretty much just wandering around, trying to figure out his new life by himself, and Geno just wants to protect him, but he doesn’t know why.

Geno settles for a pat on the back, and Olli heads back to the table. At the practice the next day, Olli gives him a small smile, but he doesn’t say much, giving them all an acquiescent look when he gets left with puck duty by himself.

Inexplicably, Geno begins to want to go out, though the more he thinks about it, it usually involves the prior knowledge Olli will be there, too. He starts going to bars and people’s houses he’s never been to, explaining it away as due to his recent bachelorhood, and no one seems to question it. If anything, they are more than willing to drag him out from place to place, the rookies and younger guys trying to peg him with the bar tab everywhere they go.

It kind of becomes their thing, him and Olli, to end up next to each other wherever they go. Olli, he finds, talks quite a lot, when he’s in small groups, and that’s where he learns about Olli’s family, his love of Lord of the Rings, the apartment he thinks he’s going to sign for when he can get a day off back in Pittsburgh. Grno tells Olli about his renovations to his house, his never ending indecision about getting a dog here, and his breakup, and Olli just _listens_. There are some chirps, here and there, about how they are turning into a bunch of chatty Kathys together, but no one even seems to question how much they really gravitate to each other.

Except Sid.

Sid doesn’t say anything for awhile, not until he sees it for himself while they are out to dinner in New York, and Geno can feel Sid’s gaze on him, watching like a hawk, as Olli ducks his head toward him when he makes a joke at Olli’s expense. Sid doesn’t say anything for a few days, but Geno knows better than to dream Sid is suddenly minding his own business - he’s just waiting for the right moment to strike.

It comes a week later, when Philly’s in town. Geno’s at the rink late after morning practice, cutting sticks, when he feels the crawling sensation of someone watching him. He already knows before he turns around exactly who it’s going to be, and he lets out a harsh _fuck!_ in Russian, something Sid understands well, partially because he messes up the stick he was cutting, but mostly to let Sid know exactly how he feels about being cornered.

“What do you think you’re doing?”

It’s asked so calmly, almost curiously, but Geno knows better than to trust Sid’s tone of voice. It’s all about the intent, and the hint of accusation prickles under his skin.

“Was cutting sticks. Make me mess up. Thanks, Crosby,” he says, walking for the door, and Sid backs up to let him out, not looking irritated in the slightest he’s being evaded.

“He’s 19. He’s a rookie. He’s your _teammate_. Do you really think this is a good idea?” Sid asks as Geno drops into his stall, looking admonishing, and he grits his teeth to bite back something he’ll regret saying.

There are a million responses, thousands of them alone a myriad of ways to tell Sid to fuck _right_ off, because, even though he loves him, Sid could stand to be a little less of a babushka, getting into everyone’s business all the goddamn time. Instead, Geno lets himself breathe for a moment before he answers, trying to come off reasonable and not like he has something to be defensive about.

“He’s adult,” he says evenly, turning up his face to meet Sid’s stare. “He say no, I listen. He not say no. Okay?”

It’s Sid’s turn to be irritated, because that’s solid logic he can’t argue against; it might be morally questionable, and all sorts of HR and PR problems if it goes sour, but there’s no part of their contracts that restrict dating each other, and the age difference is what it is. Olli is allowed to make his decision, and it seems to be to seek him out every chance he gets. Geno’s enjoying himself, with whatever it is they’re doing, and he’s not going to let Sid interfere.

“Geno-” Sid warns as Geno stands to leave, tossing his shit in his bag roughly. He just want to go home and nap, but Sid grabs his shirt sleeve as he walks away, bringing him up short.

“What else, Captain?” Geno bites out, and he can see Sid’s nose flare in irritation out of the corner of his eye.

“Geno, seriously. Stay away from him. Just...please, Geno.”

There’s no point in responding; nothing is going to change either of their opinions at this point. Geno pulls away from Sid’s grasp, and Sid lets him go without a struggle.

Sid has to know by now telling him not to do something just encourages him to do it even more.

 

* * *

 

The various drinking ages in America and Canada’s provinces haven’t concerned Geno in years, but he receives a refresher course on them when he gets to the bar they’re going to in Montreal and Olli is already _gone_. They’d lost, breaking a streak they’d been working on building, and half the team seems to have agreed alcohol was the only consolation tonight. Geno gets a whiskey neat, wanting to ease the tension, not drown it, and settles into the booth when Olli ends up half in his lap in his haste to get next to him.

“Hey!” he says, startled, catching Olli and setting him back upright, and Olli stares at where his hand it still gripping his forearm, like he’s surprised.

“Geno- G,” Olli says, leaning way too far into him considering he’s _right there_ , and a few guys around the table all turn to stare, laughing as he finally manages to extract himself from under Olli’s not-insubstantial thighs.

“You so drunk,” Geno says, watching Olli throw back something strong smelling and amber-colored, and Olli waggles both of his eyebrows at him, laughing hysterically even though it wasn’t really supposed to be funny.

“I pregamed with the boys before we left but, oh my god, I forgot I can drink here so I drank too much there and just kept drinking here.”

Geno understands maybe half of that. Watching Olli try, and fail, to successfully pick up his drink from the table is even more challenging. While Olli’s slightly more cuddly than normal, if there’s anything to be said about the way he’s essentially plastered himself to Geno’s side even though there’s definitely no need to sit that close, his lack of hand-eye coordination gives away how fucking gone he really is, and he spills half of the drink down his shirtfront as he tries to get the cup to his mouth.

“Olli,” Geno tsks, grabbing a wad of napkins and dabbing at the stain, and Olli leans all the way over into him, hand coming to rest high on Geno’s thigh as he tries to keep still enough to be cleaned. Olli’s fingers starting moving, drumming along, and Geno tenses. After a moment, Geno realizes it’s affectionate, not teasing, but his dick doesn’t seem to particularly care either way, not when Olli’s fingers are rubbing circles into the muscle about three inches south. Geno’s never been more appreciative that Sid prefers to mope in his hotel room after a loss than come out with them to drink it away, because Sid would straight up murder him if he saw this.

Geno realizes Olli’s trying to talk to him, and his hand is patting along in emphasis to whatever he’s saying. He extracts Olli’s head out from his shoulder, and Olli continues along without pause.

“…you’re just such a good- player,” Olli’s saying, an emphatic pat that ends up precariously close to somewhere it really shouldn’t be, and Geno manages to get Olli’s hands back to his own space.

“You touch you,” he says, making Olli’s hand pat his own thigh to emphasize his point, and Olli goes red, looking scandalized. “No! I not mean- Olli!”

Olli dissolves into helpless giggles, and this time Geno’s ready for it when Olli falls over into him again, the guys around the table shooting him intrigued looks as he just shrugs it off, pantomiming drinking too many drinks in Olli’s direction and rolling his eyes to the sky.

After that, Olli seems to ease up a little, getting to a more manageable state of drunkenness, partially because Geno sneaks away a double Flower had passed Olli’s way before he got distracted by Beau and Tisch playing quarters. Flower gives him the finger from down the table, and he gives it right back. Olli’s coordination seems to return, but he remains loose and pliant against Geno, head on Geno’s shoulder as he mellows back into his usual demeanor, just watching the conversation around him.

“I have to pee,” Olli whispers into his ear sometime later, and Geno had been sure he’d been asleep. Geno motions to Flower and Kuni to scoot out of the booth, sliding out himself after. Olli manages to get out with no problem, but wobbles unsteadily on his feet once he stands up. Geno grabs him before he can faceplant, and there are catcalls behind them of who’s turn it is to be Olli’s potty buddy. Geno waves them off and puts his hand on Olli’s shoulder, steering them toward the bathroom.

“I always have my balance get fucked the most,” Olli tries to explain, sheepishly. “Thanks for helping me out.”

Geno debates just propping up Olli at the urinal, but it’s one of those trough ones, and he doesn’t want to imagine Olli losing his balance and falling in. He pushes Olli into the big stall, locking it behind him, and motions to the toilet when Olli gives him a blank stare.

“Just- sit,” he orders, and Olli undoes his belt. Whether it’s the alcohol or the fact they see each other naked on the regular, Olli doesn’t seem to be particularly embarrassed about the situation at hand. He sits there, looking introspective with his chin resting in one hand as he pees, and Geno bites his tongue just to keep from laughing.

“I really appreciate everything, G,” Olli says, chin still in hand, looking at him dreamily, and he cannot believe Olli is trying to have a conversation now of all times.

“First pee, then talk, okay?”

Olli seems to have it a little more together by the time he’s done, managing to get up his pants by himself without falling over, and Geno watches as he preens in the mirror, wetting his hands to run through his hair. He keeps trying to make it stand up on end, unsuccessfully, and Geno starts to realize Olli’s stalling.

“You done?” Geno asks, shifting his weight, and Olli grips the sides of the sink, watching him in the mirror.

“I really mean it, you know?” Olli’s drops his gaze to the running water, a spot of color suddenly high on his cheeks.

Something touches a raw emotion deep inside of Geno, and he feels suddenly shy himself. “Psh, what I even do?” he tries to play off, and Olli shuts off the water, turning around to look at him in some sort of way he can’t really explain.

“I mean, everyone here, Sid especially, has really tried to make me feel welcome. And they do, really. But everyone treats me like a little kid, whether they realize it or not. You- you never acted that way. You never make me feel like I’m so much younger than the rest of you. You act like, I don’t know. Like I’m just a regular person, I guess.”

Geno wants to say, _oh, Лучик, but you are like a little kid, about to spill your heart out to me inside the bathroom of a club_ , but the thought draws him up short. When the hell did he start thinking of Olli as his? It overwhelms him for a moment, and he realizes Olli’s waiting for some sort of response.

He shouldn’t do this, plain and simple, not in a fucking club bathroom where he can hear guys pissing on the other side of the stall door. He should table this whole discussion, pull Olli out of this club and make sure he’s tucked into bed in his own room at the hotel and revisit this at some later date when they’re both a little more sober and a little less raw from the loss, but goddamn if his brain ever let logic win. He takes a step forward, and Olli tilts his head up to look at him, like he’s not afraid at all.

He realizes Olli probably isn’t.

“You not so little, you bigger than half of team,” Geno jokes, Olli rolling his eyes as he gives into a laugh, and Geno hopes he’s not just saying this to make himself feel better. “You- special guy. Yes, very young, but don’t act like. Everyone impressed. You good player and good teammate. We happy you here.”

There seems to be this state of constant motion within him, drawing him closer with each word he speaks, and his hand finds it’s way to Olli’s face when he says “I’m most happy you here.”

Geno feels Olli’s jaw work when he whispers “Geno?”, and he nods, because he understands Olli and Olli understands him and he knows what Olli was asking and Olli just _gets_ what he meant, because Olli leans forward, just enough, and he leans forward too, and then, somewhere in the middle, he feels Olli’s mouth against his.

Everything else seems to fall away, the center of his universe revolving around the tentative question of Olli’s mouth and how it moves against his, and relief rushes through his blood, thrumming from his heart out to the tips of his toes and the down into his fingers. He hadn’t realized just how very much he had wanted this to be a real thing, and having Olli move against him so beautifully, as if Olli were pouring out every ounce of affection within him through his mouth and his fingers as they come forward, searching out his and lacing their fingers together, makes Geno’s heart sing.

He kisses Olli once more, deeply, before breaking off to push their foreheads together, and Olli lets out a ragged breath, fanning out over his wet lips. Olli laughs once, more shoulders moving than anything else, and then again and again, until his whole body is shaking, and Geno pulls him in tight, tucking his chin over the crown of Olli’s head.

“How you feel?” Geno asks eventually, rocking them together, and he can feel Olli’s smile against his shoulder.

“Like I could go skate a triple shift,” Olli says, sounding giddy, and Geno squeezes him around the waist, laughing into his hair.

The reverie is broken by Duper’s voice booming out in his most put-on Quebecois accent “dis is zee SQ, all illegal activity will result in arrest” and a mad scramble of feet out of the bathroom. Olli tenses, and Geno pulls away, giving him a once over. They look none the worse for wear, and he pats Olli’s cheek once more before unlocking the stall door.

“You know, I do believe it’s against public indecency laws to hook up in a bathroom,” Duper muses, looking every bit like a disapproving father, and somehow he and Olli manage to match the same bewildered look at the same moment.

“We look like we hook up?” Geno asks earnestly, giving Duper a strange look, and Duper quickly seems unsure, looking between the two of them as if trying to figure out a puzzle.

“I- you guys were in here a while, and everyone was beginning to wonder,” Duper tries to explain, and Geno tries to put on a face of irritation.

“Olli can’t take shit without team acting like moms? Jesus!” he says, walking for the door, and Duper and Olli shoot each other an awkward look, both looking mortified. The excuse works, if Duper quietly and hurriedly explaining _something_ to Flower means anything, and no one seems to even look at them for the rest of the night.

They fly out to Boston the next morning, and Geno doesn’t see Olli at all until they’re getting on the bus to go to the hotel in the city. Olli’s the last to get on, with the other rookies, and walks straight to the back of the bus, eyes forward. Geno looks up just as Olli passes, giving him the hint of a smile, but Olli doesn’t even look at him. He doesn’t think anything of it, putting his headphones on and getting comfortable as the bus jerks into moving.

On one hand, he doesn’t need the constant validation of having Olli following him around the really signify what happened between them. On the other hand, he realizes as they approach New Year’s he and Olli have not spoken since that night in Montreal.

When he takes a moment to think back, it’s not like Olli’s completely avoided him. They still see each other at practice, stick taps in the hallway before games, hugs on the ice when they get assists on each other’s goals. It’s not awkward, really - it’s just strange. Olli basically opened his heart out and then…disappeared.

Geno wants to make excuses. They got back from Boston and it was Thanksgiving, and then they went back on the road again. He spent his free days with Nealer and his friends in Toronto and then this Dumo guy came up for the whole month of December and management pretty much had him shadow Olli, so they didn’t really hang out when they went out as a team. Olli’s mom came into town and he got injured and was out for two weeks and didn't travel with them for some of it, too. It didn’t seem like a necessarily conscious effort, but he also didn’t think it wasn’t not one either.

The Kunitz’s throw the best New Year’s party, and Geno almost doesn’t find parking when he shows up at 10. There’s a massive cheer when he steps in the door, and he raises his hand in faux sincerity, turning once on his heel to wave regally at everyone like a beauty queen. He saw Olli’s truck parked down the street, but doesn’t see him in the crowd; he tries to tell himself not to look that hard.

Geno settles in with Paulie and Nealer on the couch, getting a comfortable sort of buzzed off the spiked punch, and almost forgets about Olli until right before midnight. There’s a mass of chaos, everyone grabbing sparklers and heading out to the back patio for fireworks, and it’s easy to slip after Olli when he watches him head upstairs, phone held to his ear.

The guest room is dark, the door mostly closed shut, but Geno can still hear Olli’s voice inside. He doesn’t mean to eavesdrop, but it doesn’t matter - he doesn’t understand enough Finnish to be able to. He slips in the room, shutting the door quietly behind him, and Olli turns to look at him when the light from the hallway fills the room for a moment. He’s sitting on the window seat, looking out at the crowd on the patio, and it only takes a moment and about ten “uh-huh, uh-huh, uh-huhs” from Olli for Geno to realize who he’s talking to.

“Mama,” he says quietly, coming to stand beside Olli, and Olli smiles a little wistfully, holding the phone away from his mouth.

“Yeah. They called me in the afternoon when it was midnight in Finland but- she wants to call me when it’s midnight here, too. Just because, I guess.”

Olli seems to make his excuses to her, wishing her a happy new year in English before hanging up, and they sit in silence for a moment, watching everyone light their sparklers. Someone, maybe Byslma, starts the countdown from 59, and they listen to their friends countdown to the new year.

“Olli-” Geno starts, when the crowd’s at about 20, but Olli just grabs his hand, squeezing it tight as he looks out across the lawn.

Geno knows it’s going to happen, but he doesn’t expect the intensity in which Olli throws himself at him when the crowd yells “Happy New Year!” and the first firework explodes. He can’t tell one from the other, the fireworks outside the window or behind his eyes as Olli grinds up into him, tongue searing as it swipes across his bottom lip, looking for access to his mouth. Geno remembers being this age, the heat of desperation and how it burned through him, but he’s almost sure Olli’s really will catch fire and engulf both of them and this entire room.

“Olli,” he gasps, breaking away to breathe, because this is so much, even for him, and Olli sucks at his jaw, teeth nipping at the sensitive skin there. He just manages to grab on to Olli’s shoulders to keep himself upright, and Olli grabs for his ass, pushing their cocks right up against each other. He finds Olli’s mouth again, swallowing Olli’s moans, and grips the tops of Olli’s arms, just holding on for the ride.

Olli’s hips begin to stutter, movements becoming erratic, and Geno pushes up against him, trying to help him through. He’s pretty sure there’s not a single soul in the house to hear Olli when he comes, head pitched back as his throat works, eyes closed tight as the moans seem torn out of his chest, and it’s so fucking beautiful Geno just stops moving and stares. He’s not far behind Olli, and he slips his hand between them to get a hand on himself, brushing the thin material of Olli’s chinos, and Olli is soaking wet.

“God, Olli,” Geno laughs huskily, reaching down below Olli’s balls to cup all of him, and Olli’s sopping even down there. “You so wet for me.”

Olli jerks away, and Geno freezes, worried he did something wrong. “Olli?” he asks, and he can barely see Olli’s face, turned away from the light from the window.

“I need to go,” Olli says, “before anyone sees.”

Geno doesn’t have time to agree; Olli’s already out of the door before he can think about it. He sits there for a moment, breathing heavy, before he steps into the in-suite bathroom, fishing himself out of his pants, teeth set into his lip. He thinks about Olli’s head tipped back, the strained moans of his release, and it doesn’t take long to finish himself off. He manages to mix back into the party as everyone’s getting ready to leave, hugs and kisses to everyone as they begin to head out. Sid wraps an arm around him as he passes by, wishes for a good year, and gives him a double take.

“Hey, you didn’t happen to see Olli anywhere, have you? I can’t find him,” Sid asks.

“No,” he answers, almost honestly, “not since fireworks.”

 

* * *

Geno’s finally back for the first game of the year two days later, and everything seems back to status quo. Olli doesn’t shy away from his gaze when he gets to the rink, head up to meet it straight on, but there’s nothing behind it, no secrets between them, no hidden smiles. He glances over, watching Olli get into his gear, and sees the dark purple marks on his upper biceps, curled around the muscle. Olli slips on his undershirt quickly, but he can’t stop thinking about it, the way they stood out on Olli’s skin.

 

He doesn’t have time to dwell on it. They ride a high, losing just 8 games out of 31 leading up to the Olympic break, and it seems to rush to meet him, speeding through the snowy streets to make the plane to fly out. He’s late, but so is the plane, and he plays it up for the camera crew that’s following him, making Sid laugh. Olli looks stoic, watching him as he showboats for the crew, but doesn’t react. They get on the plane, Olli finds his seat somewhere far away, and Geno barely sees him again the entire time he’s in Sochi.

Geno doesn’t let it distract him. He gets home, and in less than five minutes into the first game, he already has a goal and an assist. Still, when he checks the standings later that night, he feels warm when he sees Olli’s name on the score sheet for their first game - a goal in his first Olympics. Olli has a three point game a few days later, and he wants so badly to go and find him and tell him how proud he is, but he tries to stick with his team and keep Olli out of his head. It feels good, like this is their time, in their house. It’s dampened a bit, when they lose to America in the most ridiculous shootout he’s ever seen, but he’s not worried - nothing can go wrong.

It’s less than a week from his first game to his last. He’s exhausted - it’s his fifth game in six days, not counting the traveling and time difference, and he curses when they draw Finland in the quarterfinals. If they don’t win, they’re done, and it’s an absolutely unacceptable option, to not even make it to a medal game when they’re playing in front of the home crowd.

Rask isn’t perfect, but he isn’t far off, either.

Geno’s heart is pounding so heavy in his throat when the final buzzer sounds, he can barely hear the booing and jeers from the crowd. It takes a moment for the rest of the team to get in line, half of them preferring to head straight for the room, but he holds his head up, even as he hears the insults from the crowd still remaining. He doesn’t look at any of the Finnish teams’ faces, looking ahead to the end of the line and the end of his time here in Russia for the next few months, but he doesn’t miss Olli’s wide-eyed, sad stare as they shake hands. Olli turns to watch him go, and out of everything, Olli’s pity is the last thing he wants to deal with right now.

He’s back to the US before he can let the dull emptiness of the loss set in. His parents know him well enough to know there’s no point trying to talk him down the high cliff of his disappointment, but it doesn’t overwhelm until he’s halfway across the Atlantic. He goes into the bathroom, splashes water on his face to try to shake the lump in his throat, then finally puts his head in his hands and cries.

Paulie and Brooks come back empty-handed as well, and it is the only thing keeping him from losing it completely as Sid, Kuni, Jussi, and Olli are jumped on by the press, talking about their medals and how amazing the experience was. They know better than to brag about it in front of him and the Americans, but he still walks through the room, overhearing snippets of conversations, Kuni showing Beau a picture on his phone of the baby with the medal. Everyone’s on eggshells around him, and he knows why, he just can’t _stop_. He’s shut himself in, become distant from the team, stopped answering texts, just kind of around, but not himself.

Geno isn’t surprised when Sid asks him to stay after practice one day, but he’s not ready, and doesn’t think he ever will be ready for this conversation.

“Let’s talk,” is all Sid says at first, and when Geno gives him a blank look in return, he amends it. “I’ll talk, you listen.”

“I know I’m the last person you want to hear this from,” Sid begins, and at least he’s self-aware. This isn’t about a gold medal, not really. At the core, it’s about disappointing your home country, at home, right in front of them. It’s about the way the crowd had booed them off the ice. It’s about broken promises. And no, he doesn’t think Sidney Crosby, who scored the golden goal himself, who stopped time for Canada one February afternoon with the victory of a lifetime, is the right person to be talking to him about this.

But damn if he’s not the only one who Geno’s willing to listen to right now.

Geno settles into his stall, arms crossed, but apparently not sending off signs that scream “fuck off”, so Sid continues.

“You just have to get over it.”

It’s not a good start, and Sid holds his hands up, almost apologetically. “Listen, I know it sounds like I’m being a dick. But it’s done. I can’t imagine how it felt- I know how important this was to you. And the whole team. The whole country. But it’s done. It’s been a month almost and I don’t think you’ve said more than a sentence to anyone on the entire team. Your game has sucked, basically. You’re making yourself more and more miserable but it’s done, bud. You have to look forward.”

Nothing Sid is saying is wrong, by any means, but it still grates to hear. He doesn’t say anything, because the only words on the tip of his tongue are denials and excuses, and even he’s done hearing it. He’s spent countless nights wondering what if, replaying penalties and overturned pucks and spotty defense in his head, but the result’s still the same - they didn’t win.

“We have something to look forward to,” Sid continues. “It’s not a medal, I know, but it’s the closest thing we’ve got. It’s something we can do, together, again. I’m sorry I can’t give you a medal, but I can give you the Cup. It can be our time, this year.”

“I’m sorry,” Geno says after they hug it out, Sid holding on when he doesn’t let go for a moment. “Not know how to get over. Just little bit too much for me. So angry and everyone else win and piss me off, it sucks. I’m know I’m make team feel I’m mad at them, but didn’t know how to stop.”

It takes almost a week for everyone to stop tiptoeing around him like he’ll explode and realize he’s getting back to himself, and they fly a high, looking set for the playoffs. And then his foot fucks up, a lingering pain he got in Sochi that never quite got better, and he’s out for the last fifth of the season. The team’s doing okay anyway, but it sucks to sit out almost a month of games in a row, especially when he’s feeling back to himself.

Towards the end of the season, Olli tweaks his shoulder, and ends up in the press box with him. The team is tired, nearing the end of the season, and the staff isn’t taking any chances with injuries before the playoffs begin. There’s a long line of them, shoulder to shoulder, Kuni and Sid and Brooks and Jussi and Goc and Vitale, and Olli barely seems to notice him. He’s been trying to find the courage to ask Olli to meet up to talk with him, about what happened before and what it means for the future, but Olli has acted like nothing is out of the ordinary between them since he got back to himself.

Still, when he leans over, playfully snatching a wing out of Olli’s basket, Jussi looks quickly at Olli as if he expects a reaction before darting his eyes back to the game. Olli gives him a warning look, playful but brief, and says nothing else to him. A few minutes later, Jussi says something low and quick in Finnish and Olli freezes, celery stick halfway between the basket and his mouth. Geno’s not looking at them, but he can see Olli look his way out of the corner of his eye before he answers Jussi with a curt response. Olli gets up, saying he’s going down the room to talk to the guys; Jussi doesn’t look Geno’s way for the rest of the game.

Olli gives him the same courteous, safe treatment until the season ends. Geno’s not above doing it, so he steals Olli’s keys from his bag in the dressing room while the team’s on the ice. Everyone’s energetic, feeling good they have home ice advantage and the seeming ability to light up the Blue Jackets every time they play, and he watches Olli give into the feeling of the room, changing out of his gear while joking with Bortz. Everyone files out, Olli included, and Geno waits.

It takes about four minutes for Olli to walk out to the parking lot, realize he doesn’t have his keys, and come back in. Geno’s sitting on the bench in front of his locker, trying to look remorseful and failing, when Olli gets back. He hears Olli come in and stop a few feet away. Olli just looks at him for a moment, face blank.

“I’m guessing you have my keys,” Olli says, and Geno pulls them out of his pocket, trying for an innocent smile. Olli reaches out to grab them, but Geno doesn’t let go.

“Want to talk to you but you avoid me,” he starts, and Olli looks every bit of 19-years-old when he blushes and proceeds to roll his eyes the very next second.

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” Olli says, and Geno raises his eyebrows at him. “I mean, any more than everyone else. You wouldn’t even look at me after- the game. It seemed like you needed space. I gave it to you.”

“Start before Olympics, you know that,” Geno points out, and Olli looks at his feet.

It’s spoken so quietly, he almost doesn’t hear Olli. “I promise, I really promise, I’ll explain some time. Just not here. Please.”

Geno doesn’t know what to make of that. Olli isn’t giving anything away except that obviously it’s something serious, and Geno’s stomach clenches, feeling tight. He doesn’t like this, at all.

“We go to dinner?” Geno tries, and Olli shakes his head.

“I can’t. I’ve got- I’m going out with Sid tonight. I promise, some other time, okay?”

Olli leaves without looking back. Geno gets into his car and heads home, trying to throw himself into getting ready for the first series and mostly succeeding. But when he lays down in bed, his mind keeps him awake, thinking about what Olli might say to him. He wonders, briefly, if it’s someone else, then wonders, not for the first time, if it’s Sid. He knows he’s going to drive himself crazy doing this, so he pops some melatonin and tunes his own stream of consciousness out.

Columbus rolls over for them almost without much of a fight, done in five games. The Blue Jackets play hard and dirty, but everyone seems to make it out of the other side of the series without too much damage, nothing than can’t be grinned and beared for the duration of the playoffs. Everyone celebrates the win, and he and Olli seem almost okay, smiles and assgrabs as they pass each other in the room. The Rangers are next, and they know it won’t be easy, but they’ve got home ice again, and that has to count for something.

But it doesn’t.

There's something almost poetic about Olli and him having points on the only goal scored when they get knocked out. The room is subdued, unsurprisingly, but Geno recognizes the familiar undercurrent of shame, anger, disappointment. To go out, in a game 7, at home, while dropping a 3-1 lead in the series is the epitome of embarrassment for both them and the fans. Sid and Dan and Ray all have their final words, and everyone throws their shit in the stall, knowing they're going to have to come back in a few days anyway to clean it out again. They leave one by one, going home to their wives and girlfriends, to find the type of consolation that only the person who knows you best can give. Geno knows his parents will be at home, but they'll also give him the space he needs, at least until the morning.

He’s just not ready to go home.

He wants to run; he’s exhausted, but he wants to go, to get his skates back on and go lap the ice until his legs quiver and the tank runs dry. Wants to get in his car, turn up the music so loud he can’t hear himself think, drive out of the city into the dark roads of the country, where the only lights are the stars, and put his foot to the floor, have the world speed past him. He didn’t come back and earn his redemption, and there’s a bitterness left where the wound’s been untreated for too long.

He wants to crowd his body against someone who will understand, put his face in their neck until all he can see, smell, taste is the feel of them against him. He just wants absolute oblivion.  
  
When Geno gets out of the showers, Olli's sitting in his stall, staring at the wall as the guys around him pack up and leave. In his trance, he had almost forgot the acrid taste of being knocked out of the playoffs for the first time. He knows Olli's been here before, in juniors, even knows how bad it is to make it to a final and lose, and somehow, it seems like the most obvious thing in the world that they should be together right now.  
  
Olli looks up when Geno stands right in front of him, and Geno wants so badly to hold him. There's a hum of conversations protecting them from listening ears; if anything, it probably looks like he's comforting the rookie on his first playoffs exit. They look at each other for a moment, and he hopes Olli knows what he's trying to say.  
  
"Don't want to go home."  
  
Olli thinks about it for a moment, searching his face. "Do you want to go out?"  
  
He can't help the look of disgust that he shows. The last thing he wants to do is face the Pittsburgh crowd they've just disappointed for the fifth year in a row, losing to a lower seeded team again in their home arena. Olli watches his face, and then nods once, not needing an explanation.  
  
"Stupid question, sorry," Olli falters, looking away again. "Come to my place?"  
  
It takes another hour and twenty pats on the back from half the staff before he finally makes it out to the lot. Olli's truck is already idling, brake lights red in the dark, and he keeps his distance as they pull out of the gate. Olli's truck blends into the traffic once they get out onto the street, and he weaves his way through the cars, speeding way too fast but almost incapable of stopping. He follows Olli, a few cars ahead, into downtown, turning into a parking garage after him. He parks a few spots down, and Olli waves him toward the stairs.  
  
Olli's apartment is exactly what you get when you give a teenager the time and funds to furnish a home by themselves. The leather couch stands out next to the velvet recliner, and none of the cups seems to match the plates in the cabinet. Olli asks him what he wants to drink, and he looks at the somewhat impressive and illegally obtained collection next to the stove before grabbing the Glenfiddich and declining the glass Olli tries to hand him, unscrewing the cap and taking a drink straight from the bottle. He takes another two while he watches Olli mix Jagermeister with something and puts the cap back on; he wants to dull the bitterness he's feeling, but he still needs to get home by the end of the night.  
  
Olli takes a sip, watching him over the rim of his glass, and suddenly everything hits him, every shitty moment from the last year like a tidal wave, and he feels like he sinking, without anything to hold on to. He looks at Olli, and Olli looks ready and willing to let him fall into him, and that realization makes it even worse. He wants Olli's company, wants Olli to console him, to hold him, and what the fuck is he doing, standing in a teenager's kitchen, drinking his illegally acquired alcohol and hoping, maybe, he'll pull him in and not let go. He wants to be the stronger person, to act like he’s older, but he can’t be that, and he knows Olli can.  
  
"Where you get all this?" Geno asks, trying to deflect from his inner monologue, and Olli takes a look at the half-drunk bottles on the counter.  
  
"Oh, Sid bought them for me."  
  
Something about that makes his stomach clench, but he doesn't know why. "Nice of him," he tries casually. "He just bring you alcohol at your doorstep one day?"  
  
Olli gives him a strange look. "Nah. He told me he'd get me whatever I needed, that even if the stores would let me have it, it was probably better for someone else to get it for me, so. I mean, that's really his policy for everything."  
  
It shouldn't make him angry, but there's a wound that's already open and bleeding in his heart and he feels like salt's being rubbed into it. It's so obvious, that Sid has no interest in Olli and Olli has no interest in Sid, but he doesn't understand why Olli always asks for Sid's help and never his, yet Olli looks at him like he's waiting for him to just do something.  
  
"Sid always get you what you need, huh?"  
  
It's a low blow, and Olli just blinks.  
  
"I don’t know what you want from me, Geno."  
  
Olli looks more upset than angry, running his hands through his hair until it sticks up on end, and it makes Geno feel like the smallest, shittiest person in the world. He looks anywhere but Olli’s face, feeling like he's 13 years old again, being yelled at for messing up when he should have known better, but he just doesn't get it.  
  
"You look at me and everybody know how you feel but you never say. You get kind of drunk and you all over me at bar but next day you act like you never know me before. Then New Years, after, we barely talk for three months. I’m trick you to talk and I'm try, say let's go eat, let’s talk about this, you say, no, go with Sid. What I think? I'm always try."  
  
Olli scrubs his hand over his face. "Yes, but that's because, you know..." he explains, vaguely gesturing at himself.  
  
"What? Okay, you 19, I'm 27, yes, big difference, I know, but now you almost not rookie, you 20 soon, it's okay. We get along, we know each other. If people have problem, don't fucking care."  
  
"It's not just that, G," Olli says, and his voice is so quiet it scares Geno. Olli's mouth is twisted in a grimace, and Geno almost reaches out for him, because something is _wrong_.  
  
"What it not? What’s problem? If you not want me, just say."  
  
Olli doesn’t seem to know _what_ to say. He opens his mouth once, and then, as if thinking better of it, shakes his head.  
  
"Come sit down."  
  
When he hesitates for a moment, Olli pushes, seeming on edge.

"Geno, just come sit down."  
  
Geno sits on the couch, and Olli disappears for a moment, opening and shutting a dresser or cabinet in another room. Olli walks back to the living room, card in hand, and sits down on the coffee table directly across from him, knees almost knocking together. Olli turns the card over, pushing at the plastic, when Geno realizes it's some type of medication. Olli throws his head back, swallowing down whatever it is, and throws the pack in Geno’s lap without saying a word. Geno looks down, and his mind goes blank.  
  
All he can think about is Sid's warning, playing on repeat in his head. _“Geno, seriously. Stay away from him. Just...please, Geno.”_  
  
He's still looking at the birth control when Olli says "I didn’t know how to say it. It never seemed like the right time. I think I thought you wouldn’t be interested anymore."  
  
"Never say stuff like that," Geno answers, because it's the only thing he can think to say, and Olli nods, looking self-conscious.  
  
"You're right. I just assumed, I guess. A lot of guys disappear when they find out you're a carrier."  
  
Geno has no idea where to begin. The closest he's even been to a carrier was Sid himself, and everything he knew about it was Sid's own reluctance. He remembers sitting up with Sid at 4 am on Mario’s pool deck after they lost the first cup, had just gotten back to the house after the loss, when Sid told him he never wanted to carry his kids. He had just started dating someone new, and while it was years away from Sid realizing she was the one, the idea of having someone had helped him realize he never wanted to have kids himself. He had listened while Sid complained about cycles and birth control and how much harder it was to regulate for men, and how he was seemingly changing medication every three months trying to get it under control. A week later, the day before he flew home to Russia, Sid had a complete hysterectomy. Geno visited him at UPMC before flying out, and he remembers the look of peace on Sid's face, content in the finality of his decision.  
  
In retrospect, it all makes such perfect sense he feels sick for ever doubting Sid, Olli, or management themselves. The front office pushed Sid on Olli to help mentor him, not only because Sid would understand what it was like to be so young in the league, but because Sid would understand what it would be like to be carrier, as well.  
  
"You get surgery?" Geno asks, and then amends his question. "Like Sid does?"  
  
Olli half-smiles, looking almost forlorn. "Oh, no. One day I want to carry kids. After hockey, maybe. I know a lot of guys are electing to have the surgery, but I think I kind of look forward to it. Finland’s pretty open with it now, and I figure between here, Canada, or America, I won’t have any problems. I try not to think too much about it since that’s like, a distant future thing, but yeah. I’d love to have kids.“

Neither of them has to acknowledge the elephant in the room, because they both know what’s left unspoken. Finland and America and the half of the rest of the world have come to be open and welcoming to carriers, but it’s a stark contrast to Russia, who still takes away children from carriers, stating research shows children need both mother and father to grow successfully. No one mentions the fact that single parents seem to be qualified to manage their children alone, whereas a carrier and his partner apparently aren’t, but he also knows change won’t come any time soon. He loves his country, but to say the view on human rights is borderline archaic would probably be too kind of an assessment.

Geno doesn’t want to think about it. "So, only Sid know? Beside front office."  
  
"Dumo knows. I roomed with him during a cycle and I didn’t really feel like trying to hide the trash for a week. And then, Jussi knows, though that's it. I mean, I don't care if the whole team knows, it’s just the front office wanted to keep it quiet."  
  
"Because Sid," Geno adds, and Olli agrees.  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
Sid had shied away from the idea of media ever asking him a question about how cycles were affecting his performance, or if he were a liability to the team if he might become pregnant during the season. Lindros had been dragged through the mud enough by the media when he was the first NHL player to reveal he was a carrier, and the subsequent debate over whether his concussions were caused in part by the unique hormones carriers possessed were enough to make the Penguins organization put in a policy against ever revealing carrier status for any player. Sid’s own post-concussion problems were left as they were, simply written off as bad bad healing, and no one would ever ask him something pointless, like if he thought his birth control was making him dizzy.  
  
“I’m not-” Geno starts, and can’t remember the word he wants in English. There’s just so much emotion to convey to Olli right now, and he’s not sure how to do that with the arsenal of words he has at his disposal. “I’m not feel bad about it. I’m like you if you carrier, not carrier, it’s not big deal, you know? I’m just, don’t know how to say, I’m worry a little bit. Not sure what you want, if you can tell me things. If we together, have to trust each other, you know? Not sure you trust me. Not sure I’m trust you all the time, too.”

Olli seems to digest this. “That’s fair, for sure. I know it was a huge secret to keep, and I didn’t exactly go about it the best way for like half the season. Sid just said some stuff that made me think-”

He cuts off Olli with a noise, and Olli looks embarrassed.

“Listen, I’m not trying to blame it on Sid, he was always supportive of my feelings for you, so please don’t be mad at him. He just pointed out things, the ways it could affect my career. I appreciate all he’s done, because no one in my life has ever been this understanding of my situation. I’ve never been close to another carrier; Finland didn’t have carrier mentors for kids like Canada and Sweden do until last year. We really have different opinions of it, I can tell he doesn’t understand why I want to have kids, but he’s always been respectful. A little bossy, but he knows when to let up.”

Geno doesn’t think he’s not going to be mad at Sid for this anytime soon, but he also does see it from their perspective a little better. He knows Sid’s never really had someone to talk about it that understood what was at stake for a player, and his jealousy rests a little easier knowing their bond is largely for that reason alone.

“I meant it though,” Olli says quietly. “What I said to you in the bar. Of course my parents understand me, and my brothers, and Sid understands what it’s like being young and a hockey player and a carrier, and I’ve had friends I could talk to about anything but- you just seem to know me. Sometimes it scares me, because I feel like you get me in ways I don’t really understand about myself. You’re you, and I’m me, and there’s a lot of better people you could be with, but since I met you, I don’t think I’ve stopped hoping that it will be me.”

“Olli-” he starts, but Olli keeps going.

“No, wait, just let me get it out. I know it’s a lot but- every time I’m with you, I feel like everything is right. Like, right now, my whole world is basically going to shit, but you’re here with me, and I feel like, like I’m okay right now. Because you’re here.”

On some level of consciousness that isn’t just absorbing every syllable of what Olli’s saying, Geno is vaguely aware he’s liable to start crying at really any point.

“I know I’m young, and I’m dumb, and I made a lot of stupid choices, because I couldn’t figure it out. I know I kept playing hot and cold, because I’d want to be with you, but then I would think about it. Like maybe you wouldn’t want me, maybe you’d be weirded out. And then I would remember how much I missed you. Like on New Years. Then with the Olympics, that wasn’t even related to everything else, I just knew how upset you were and I thought- I mean, it’s not like I scored all the goals, but I felt responsible for it, in a way. And you were so angry, you wouldn’t even look at me. I kind of figured I had fucked it up for good, and by the time you said you wanted to talk, I didn’t know what to do anymore. I talked to Sid and he said that it didn’t seem like either of us had changed how we felt, and we were just hurting each other, and that he wouldn’t do it, but it seemed like we really cared for each other despite everything, so maybe we should try. And now we’re here.”

It takes a good few minutes for Geno to process everything, and in the meantime, he plays with Olli’s fingers, just so Olli will stop nervously tapping them against his knees. He completely understands what Olli is feeling, but he still needs reassurance that any type of trying is going to mean this is discussed openly, not after the shit hits the fan.

He knows that also applies to him, as well.

“Why you think I’m not want you? Not mean about Olympics, I’m know I act like jerk.”

Olli gives him an obvious look. “I mean, you’re you. You could go to any place that knows hockey and say ‘Malkin’ and everyone knows who you are. You could have anyone in the world, probably, if you wanted.”

He gives Olli a dubious look back. “So? Yes, I’m good hockey player, but you good, too. Yes, maybe I’m rich, but you get big contract in few years. You have medal, I’m never have one. I’m not understand why we different.”

“I’m 19.”

“Already say, not big deal. Why big deal for you and not me? Why I’m not think, maybe Olli want young guy, not old guy, boring guy. When I’m 19, I want to sleep with everyone. Maybe you want that instead.”

Olli looks so embarrassed. “I mean, I might have, but I was pretty hung up on you. And it’s not like I can hook up like most other guys, you know. Half the guys that have got off my pants seem to have a fetish for it, and I could tell they were using me to fulfill that, not because they cared about me. So I’m really not a big fan of hook ups.”

Of course, Geno would never have thought of it like that. He tugs Olli’s hand, and feels deeply thrilled when Olli lets himself be pulled in, tucked onto his lap, head warm and heavy on his chest. He places a kiss to the crown of Olli’s head, and Olli hums against him, snuggling down deeper. This is exactly what he needed, ever since the final buzzer rang in the arena, and he melts into Olli, letting Olli sink down into his bones.

“I like you because you you. Not care about carrier, or because you young. Yes, these things important, we have to be careful, but most important how we feel. I’m want to try this. Us. But we need be better. A lot better. Maybe when we back from summer.”

Olli nods against his shoulder, when he looks down to make sure he’s not dozing off, Olli’s face is right there. He starts half-debating, if this is the right time for this, when Olli says “can I kiss you?” and he doesn’t even think he says anything, but somehow he lets Olli know that, yes, yes, always, forever can he kiss him, and it feels like the most perfect thing in the world to kiss Olli. Olli wraps an arm around the back of his neck and pulls him in close, fingers threading through his hair, and they stay like that for a long time, mouths moving slow and soft, no pressure for anything more.

They stay together long after they stop kissing, definitely too big for this little couch and making the most out the space they have. Geno’s eyes are closed, sunk deep into a nirvana-like bliss as Olli massages his scalp, when Olli says “this almost makes me forget that we just humiliated ourselves,” and he laughs.

“Oh, it come.”

“I mean, I figured. How bad is it going to suck, you think?”

Geno feels honesty is probably the best policy. “ _Worst_.”

They doze on and off for a few hours, Olli’s head tucked beneath his chin, and finally he pulls away, needing to get home before his parents worry overly much, or, in his mother’s case, get nosy about who she thinks he’s sleeping with. He’s barely had this conversation with Olli himself, and he’s not going to divulge details to her yet. Olli sits up, barely half-awake, and there’s a fondness in Geno’s heart growing larger by the second every time he looks at Olli.

He leans into him one last time, and kisses Olli deeply, memorizing the way he breathes into him, one warm hand on his knee. He can feel the way Olli's mouth curves up on one side when they bump noses, and Geno sinks into the feeling, like trying to remember the last sentence on the page before he puts the bookmark in, saving the rest of the story for later. He squeezes Olli's hand, and Olli laces their fingers together as he pulls away, a promise to not let go.  
  
The drive home is quiet; most of the city asleep long ago, even as the lights on the bridges illuminate everything he can see. Neither Mama or Papa are awake when he walks in, but there are some fresh cakes on the kitchen island, and he snags one on the way upstairs. His suitcases are already open and ready in his closet when he goes to grab some pjs, Mama nothing if not completely straightforward. He crawls into bed wearily, knowing tomorrow will begin the long process of ending the season and heading straight to Worlds.  
  
Geno sees Olli a few more times, never alone enough to try to steal a few more sweet kisses, but he does get a moment alone with him during clean-out day, snatching Olli away when he comes out of the physical therapist’s room.  
  
"You okay?" he asks, and Olli just stares at him, as if he doesn't know what he's supposed to say.  
  
"I- yeah. I have surgery next week on the 22nd. Four to six months recovery. I can't go home for at least six weeks while they make sure I'm progressing."  
  
Olli had been having pain since at least January, but had managed to make it to the end of the season; everyone knew it would be coming, but he knows Olli didn't expect he'd have to hang around in Pittsburgh for so long with everyone else gone.  
  
"Olli, if I’m could, I’m stay," he starts, but Olli gives him a smile that isn't really a smile.  
  
"I'll be fine. Pooh has surgery the day before me," Olli shrugs, and he hates when Olli does this, downplaying what's going on so much he makes Sid's hockey robot act seem emotive. "We'll hang out and whatever. They said I might be able to go to London for a few days. Don't worry about me."  
  
It would be impossible not to worry. When he's waiting on the tarmac, flying out to New York and then on to Minsk, he sends Olli a text wishing him luck, the stewardess giving him a stern look as she reminds everyone to put their devices into airplane mode. By the time he gets to New York, Olli's sent him two back, the first thanking him for his well wishes. The second makes his heart race.  
  
_have fun at Worlds. i can’t wait for september_

He can't wait either.

* * *

Redemption is holding the World Cup in his hands, even if it means knocking out Finland in the final game. He’s fucked up his foot again, but it doesn’t even matter. He wonders how Olli’s doing, then remembers he’s probably still in that first fucking week of post-op where everything hurts and they try to pretend Tylenol with codeine is enough to dull it. He debates sending him a text, but doesn’t know if it’s better to come off sincere or joking about Russia’s win. Eventually, he tucks his phone back in his pocket and forgets about it for days, until it’s too late to send one without it being weird. Olli doesn’t send him one, either.

Still, as the weeks go by, Geno’s heart wakes him in the middle of the night, fragments of Olli disappearing with his dreams. As he goes around, celebrating, he has women and men alike throwing themselves at him, but he’s just not into it like he used to be. Olli texts him that he managed to make it back to Finland, and Geno dreams for a moment of making the short trip over to see him, but Olli seems to only half-heartedly be responding to his admittedly sporadic messages, and he tries to remind himself they haven’t technically begun anything yet.

He can’t shake the feeling they aren’t nothing, too, though. For his part, from the texts he does get, Olli seems to be focused wholeheartedly on recovering, the entire summer, so he doesn’t think he’s being forgotten, but it’s hard to shake the feeling. Olli talks about physical therapy, dry land exercises, missing the ice dearly, and not much else. Geno feels for a moment he’s talking to Sid 2.0, and recoils at the thought of how dry the text conversations must be between those two.

As it is, Geno gets back to Pittsburgh in the middle of the afternoon and promptly crashes, brain confused and irritated at the time difference. It takes a solid three days for him to get to a point of minimal grogginess sufficient to willingly interact with others, and he finally starts texting everyone else, seeing who’s back, the day before camp starts.

Olli, it turns out, had been back for weeks, closely watched by the medical staff as the countdown to the season began. Geno shows up to his first day of camp and feels the wave of panic rise when Olli doesn’t take the ice. He’s off the ice himself, still resting his foot, and Johnston runs down the list of injuries, the guys giving him sympathetic looks as they dress out. Olli’s nowhere to be seen in the whole complex, and something doesn’t sit right with him about it. He’s texting Olli to meet up while the trainers are still checking out his foot, rushing out when they said he’s done for the day.

The trip to Olli’s is almost familiar. Olli greets him at the parking garage elevator with a warm smile and a wooden hug, one arm wrapped around him as Olli hooks his chin over his shoulder, sighing as if in relief. Despite his concerns over the summer, it feels good to see Olli again, an organic kind of comfort that seems to resonate off both of them, and neither pulls away for a long moment. Geno pulls back eventually, trying to put his hands on Olli’s shoulders, to hold him at arm’s length and get a good look at him, but Olli recoils, stepping away.

“Sorry, it’s just-” he starts, looking embarrassed as one arm stays flat by his side. “It’s really close to being pretty much healed, and I’ve been trying to just not even risk it. I’m not cleared for the season yet, and I want to do everything I can to get the okay.”

Geno’s more than content to sit and have tea, ankles crossed together as they sit side by side. There’s a slight air of hesitancy between both of them that seems to fade the closer they sit, and Olli’s feet end up in Geno’s lap as he talks about the summer cabin his family owns and what the doctors have told him about when he’ll be back. He tells Olli about Worlds, laughing at Olli’s disgruntled face at Finland’s loss, and about meeting Putin.

When there’s a lull in the conversation, Geno decides he might as well ask. “Still want to do what we say, before summer?”

“Yeah, I do,” Olli says, looking pink but happy, and Geno leans in for a kiss, Olli barely managing not to smile the whole time he kisses him.

“We have rules though, yes?” Geno asks, pulling back.

“I mean, I guess?” Olli seems confused, and Geno wonders if he used the right word. “Explain what you’re thinking.”

“Can’t keep big secret. Me and you,” Geno says, holding up a finger. “Big things. Not say you tell me everything. Important things, need to know.”

Olli agrees, and Geno moves to the next one. “We go on date. Real date. Fancy dinner, dress nice. Once a month, when have time.”

Olli seems agreeable to this as well, at least until Geno says “I’m pay for all dates”, and he give Geno an unenthused stare.

“You do know I get paid to play hockey as well, right?” Olli says sarcastically, but Geno refuses to budge. Olli seems to fall back into agreement when he realizes it’s pointless to argue about it, but Geno knows better than to expect Olli to sit by idly and take it; he knows Olli will find a way to buy what he thinks he owes him.

“Last rule, okay? We not tell everyone now. Tell important people, but I’m not want people bother us. Okay?”

Olli doesn’t look taken aback, surprisingly. “Yeah, that’s fine.”

He’s been around a lot longer than Olli, but he figures Olli can understand after playing a year in the league how every single breath a player takes is scrutinized and cross-examined. He doesn’t want detailed analyses of how looking at Olli too long on the bench is affecting his ability to concentrate or this ice, or something equally ridiculous.

Geno’s going to break his own rule, immediately after asking for it, but he doesn’t want to tell Olli he’s worried about what people will think of their relationship, even though he’s already said it doesn’t matter to him. People don’t know Olli like he does, and he knows people will get caught up, not being able to see past a number to realize how different Olli is from most other 20 year olds. For now, while they’re still figuring out, he wants to be able to see how the relationship grows, and not worry about a million unwarranted opinions.

“You have some?” Geno asks, and Olli thinks about it.

“No, not really,” Olli says, easygoing. “Though I haven’t really dated anyone seriously like before, so there’s probably some things I’m just not thinking about right now. I’ll let you know if I do.”

Geno wants to hang his head in his hands and laugh at young Olli sounds saying that, but he remembers he was about the same age when he started dating Oksana. Really, he only has one relationship over Olli to begin with, so he settles himself, feeling it’s probably not fair to judge him.

He leaves Olli with another fleeting kiss, Olli protecting his arm as if he expects him to rip it off. He raises an eyebrow when Olli one-arm hugs him, and Olli pushes him out of the door with the good arm. “If you mess it up, you’ll be sorry,” Olli laughs, and Geno flips him off before heading out.

The next few days are crazy, just the rush of getting back into camp and get prepped for the season. They both have conflicting doctors appointments, and they don’t see each other for three days. Olli excitedly texts him, saying he’s been cleared for limited contact in camp and almost certainly to start the first game, and he sends back the sunglass emoji and seven exclamation points. His foot still isn’t 100%, and he’s shut down for camp completely. The media speculates, and he does off-ice workouts. It’s not exactly how he planned the preseason would start.

Olli texts him “dinner tonight?”, and when he replies with a heart eye emoji, Olli sends back “I’m paying or I’m not going”, the little shit. Olli asks him to come over first, and he sees his chance for payback when he passes by the florist. He gets the biggest bouquet they have pre-made, and the older woman behind the counter looks at him doe-eyed when he signs the cards “Yours, G”.

“Someone must be very special,” she muses as she ties the card on the vase, and he finds himself smiling big at the thought.

“Yes, very special.”

He tells Olli he’ll let the security at the desk buzz him in, and Olli seems dumbstruck when he opens the door, greeted with the big bouquet of flowers and Geno’s even bigger shit-eating grin. He pushes the vase into Olli’s hands and leans forward to give Olli a kiss, pinching Olli’s side when Olli mumbles “you fucker.” Olli grabs his wallet and keys, and leads him out the front door of the lobby, instead of to the parking garage.

“We walk?” Geno asks, and Olli smiles back at him, waving his hand to follow.

The crowds of Pittsburgh are almost always good to him. He’ll get asked for pictures here and there, but most people respect when he’s not at a specific event to let him be. He gets a few double takes, some smiles and a wave or two, but they’re able to walk across Market Square to Il Pizzaiolo without being stopped.

Olli’s good on his word - he snatches up the check, even after Geno gets three glasses of the most expensive wine, savoring it slow and sweet until Olli had kicked him under the table. Olli looks smug, but Geno doesn’t care; he’s beginning to realize Olli can do whatever the hell he likes, and he’ll follow along so long as they’re together.

Two days before the season starts, Geno texts Olli to be dressed well and downstairs at 6:45. Olli is just stepping out of the front door at 7:08 when he pulls up at the curb. Olli purposefully looks at his watch when he slides in the car. “Good timing. I figured you wouldn’t be here for another five minutes.”

“Smartass,” Geno comments, hand sliding across to rest on Olli’s left knee as they drive across the bridge.

The restaurant makes an exception for their tardiness when they realize it’s him, and he still gets the private room he reserved, bottle of wine chilled and uncorked for them on the table. Olli eyes the bottle, and Geno reaches across for his glass, eyes on Olli as he fills it up halfway. Olli looks hesitant to try it.

“They not care. Not going to call police,” Geno reassures, and Olli tilts his head back, throat working as he drinks it down. Olli’s not unaware of what’s going on, between the private room, the expensive wine, the four-course meal, but he acts coy nonetheless, knee pressing the inside of Geno’s thigh underneath the table.

“Have big plans tonight?” Olli asks, feigning curiosity, but he shows the cards in his hand, blushing when he says it.

Geno looks straight at him, unabashed and more experienced in this kind of play, and takes another sip of his wine, as if disinterested. “Might. Depends.”

“Depends on what?” Olli says, facade broken, as if he really thinks Geno will drop him off at home with a kiss on the cheek and a firm handshake, sweet dreams.

Geno’s hand slips under the table cloth, inching up Olli’s leg as he leans forward.

“On you.”

Olli is _something_ for the rest of the dinner, not nervous but not at ease, either. Geno begins to suspect Olli’s just doing an almost perfect job of keeping his impatience under check, but he almost snorts blancmange out of his nose when he apparently takes too long to finish it, Olli shooting him restless glances from across the table. Olli sits with hands crossed in lap for the twenty minutes it takes him to finish dessert and pay for the meal, and he slaps at Olli’s ass when they’re alone in the stairway, urging him on to the car.

“Come home with me?” Geno asks, and Olli nibbles at his lip, nodding.

Geno slides his hand from the gearshift to Olli’s thigh about two lights away from the parking lot. Olli looks at him out of the corner of his eye, but doesn’t do anything except open his legs a little more. Geno doesn’t go right for it, taking his time stroking the safe, proper middle of Olli’s left thigh, but by the time they’ve gotten away from the city, past the bright lights and into the backroads, the patterns of Geno’s movements are fluid and questioning, dipping into the junction of Olli’s hip and thigh and reaching down. When he turns down the road leading home, he cups Olli roughly as the trees and houses fly past the window in the dark. Olli’s knuckles are white, gripped tight around the door handle as they pass under a street light.

Geno can’t make it out of the car. As soon as the garage door closes, he grabs the collar of Olli’s button down and drags him in, meeting him halfway over the center console. The sounds of their mouths moving together, against one another seem amplified in the closed-in cabin of the car; the windows fog up, and for a moment, the whole world seems to exist inside the space of his Porsche. He wants to break away, to get Olli out of this car and upstairs into his bed, but he’s momentarily waylaid by Olli’s wandering hand, slipped under the hem of his shirt to get at the skin there. When Olli’s hand dips down, Geno catches it in an instant, feelings the tendons resist.

“Not here,” he says, against Olli’s lips. Olli follows his mouth when he tries to break away, tries to get out of this damn car, and he growls, biting Olli’s bottom lip hard enough to leave a cut. “Move. Now.”

They kick their shoes off in the mudroom, and it’s straight upstairs. Geno debates taking Olli right there on the stairs, eyes watching that sweet little ass of his move as he follows Olli up, but his knee isn’t what it used to be since having surgery, and it probably isn’t the most choice location for a first time. He propels Olli forward, hands on his hips and mouth on his neck, and steers him toward his bedroom.

His fingers are quick, coming around to dispose of Olli’s buttons one by one, and he speaks out against Olli’s skin, words said between the kisses. “You want? We do what you want. You say stop, I stop.”

Olli laces his fingers in the Geno’s right hand as it disembarks the last button and brings it down, pressing Geno’s palm against the strain of his cock in his slacks, curls Geno’s fingers under the weight of him so he can feel the damp pooling behind his sack. Geno nips, too hard, at the junction of shoulder and neck, and Olli moans, grinding his ass into Geno’s own confined dick.

“I want you to fuck me,” Olli says, begs more than anything, really, and Geno’s not going to say no to that.

He gets Olli up on the bed, pushing the button down off his shoulders, and lays him out, ducking down into him to kiss his mouth. Geno loves kissing, could make out all fucking night if you let him, and Olli doesn’t push him to move on; instead, Olli seems content to let Geno set the pace, and responds beautifully to his every move, groaning as Geno urges his mouth open a little wider, sweeping in to taste him. They lay like that for a while, hips finding the required friction against one another, Olli’s hand in his hair, pulling when Geno mouths kisses along his jawline, sucking a mark into the soft skin behind his ear.

Geno undoes the button and zipper on Olli’s jeans, allowing him that much freedom, but doesn’t make a move to take them off, or even dive his hand beneath the material, and Olli whines, bucking up against him. He pins Olli’s thighs between his own, hands holding Olli’s wrists above his head, and makes short work of Olli’s nipples, biting and sucking until they’re dark pink and pebbled, demanding more attention. Olli made a shocked noise at the first hot pull of Geno’s mouth, and although Olli’s mentioned other guys from before, Geno can’t help but idly wonder if Olli’s ever been well taken care of, actually treated right.

Geno’s goal is to make Olli forget about anyone else by the time they’re done.

He’s careful about getting Olli the rest of the way undressed. Olli helps him get off his own shirt, and they lay chest to chest, Olli’s body compact and big beneath him. He might have the height on Olli, but Olli’s got a certain mass he doesn’t, not huge, but solid in places he isn’t. Later, he’ll get under Olli, get Olli pressing him down into the mattress, but right now, Olli seems more than happy to be led.

Geno hooks his fingers into the top of Olli’s slacks while his mouth is pressing kisses into Olli’s ribcage. Olli lifts his hips, letting Geno slide them down and toss them aside, and Geno drags his mouth down the flat of Olli’s stomach, pressing a kiss to the fine trail of hair leading to his navel. He can hear the distinct silence of Olli holding his breath, and it all comes out in a harsh rush when he presses his nose into the space where thigh meets groin and breathes deeply. Olli smells a little like sweat, the slight smell of skin and hair, but mostly, it’s briny, like sea salt. He parts Olli’s thighs, feeling them quiver underneath his palms, and ducks down, bumping the wet spot of Olli’s briefs with his nose.

Olli begins to fall apart when Geno traces the line of his cock over the fabric of his briefs with the flat of his tongue, and he can feel his own control wearing thin. Olli’s underwear ends up hanging off the lamp on the nightstand, his pants and underwear barely make it off his body, and Olli’s dick manages to get down his throat, all in under 30 seconds. Olli doesn’t buck up into his mouth, but his hand finds its way back to his hair, and Geno’s sure if Olli knew just how hard he was pulling, he’d be embarrassed.

Geno loves it.

His hand comes up to rolls Olli’s sack, cupping him loosely, and Olli begins talking in incoherent phrases, his name repeated like a prayer every time his tongue sweeps around Olli’s cockhead. He presses a knuckle into the soft skin behind Olli’s balls, stroking down, and Olli’s permission is granted when his legs fall all the way open, knees bent to allow Geno as much access as possible.

Geno’s seen a carrier’s body before, in porn, so he knows what to expect, but it’s different experiencing it in person, finding what Olli likes and doesn’t like without a detailed road map. His drags one fingertip, so slowly, between the folds behind Olli’s sack, and Olli shudders, eyes fluttering closed. There’s no clit, no urethra like a woman’s body, those things still in sole possession of the penis, but everything else, the folds, the slick wet, is the same.

Geno gets Olli turned over, pillow underneath his hips, because it’s easier this way, carrier’s bodies a leftover design from their ancestors’ quadrupedal days, meant to be entered from the back. Once he makes sure Olli’s comfortable, it’s easy to slide two fingers in, Olli tight and hot around him. Geno rocks his fingers back and forth, and he can feel Olli’s prostate when he hits it, Olli’s cry almost pained. He does it again, and Olli’s whole body shakes. Olli reaches back, grabbing on to his thigh to pull him closer.

Geno fingers Olli until there’s a fine sheen of sweat broken out across Olli’s back, and Olli’s body is twitching with every thrust of his fingers. He pulls them out, fingers soaked with wet all the way to his palm, and slides them back down the cleft of Olli’s ass, circling around his hole. There’s so much slick on his hand, it’s easy to slide the two fingers into Olli’s ass, just like that, and Olli cries out, getting his knees under him so he can rock back against the thrusts. Geno just barely manages to reach the nightstand and dig out the lube and condom, fingers still stretching Olli as he pops the cap, drenching his fingers and Olli’s ass. Olli tenses up at the cold, and Geno murmurs an apology into his hip, sliding in a third finger. He takes longer than he normally would, but Olli reacts so beautifully to every movement, fingers twisting in the sheets, breathy little sighs when Geno grazes just the right spot. He’s edging Olli so hard, bringing him almost to finish and pulling back at the last moment, but he doesn’t want this to end yet, and he’s not going to be able to bounce back as quick as Olli might for a second round.

“You want?” Geno asks, dick sliding along the inside of Olli’s thigh, and Olli groans out a “please, G.”

Olli whines a little when he slides his fingers out, tearing at the wrapper, and Geno looks at the sight in front of him in a daze, Olli’s head bowed between his shoulders, ass up, waiting for him. Olli’s hole is already pink and a little loose, shiny from the lube, and Geno throws up a prayer he might be able to last for more than a minute. Geno rubs the head of his dick around the rim, Olli relaxing back into him, and it’s so, so easy to slide right in, Olli’s body opening for him without resistance. Olli’s noise is almost content, and Geno moves once, testing how Olli’s body takes him in, clutching hot and tight around him.

There’s not a good way to get a hand on Olli like this, a fact Geno laments, but Olli seems more than happy to make do with the pillow, doubling it up between his thighs and grinding against it. Geno gets one hand on Olli’s hip, one hand flat between his shoulders to keep him in position, and fucks Olli hard and slow. He speaks to Olli in low, rough Russian, the intent more important than the meaning, and Olli keeps his head turned toward him, body pulling at him when he gets Olli just the right way.

It becomes apparent to Geno that, no matter how close he gets, Olli’s just not going to come without his hands, and Geno gives him warning, hand on Olli’s hip as he slides out. He ditches the condom for now, and gets Olli on his side, one hand on his dick and the other stroking down the swell of his ass. He smooths his hand over the skin there, Olli watching him with heavy-lidded eyes, and rears back, smacking his hand flat. Olli’s dick jumps in his hand, and Olli’s mouth drops opening, panting out a whine.

“Want me finger you?” Geno asks, pumping Olli’s dick almost teasingly, and Olli squirms underneath him.

“Fuck, yeah.”

“Ass, or pussy?” he asks, squeezing a tight circle under Olli’s cockhead, and Olli blanks, mouth slack until he lets go.

“Both, either, just fucking do it,” Olli growls.

Olli tucks his top leg up, knee to chest to give Geno open access, and Geno straddles Olli’s other leg, scooting close to drape over him as his fingers circle Olli’s rim again, just pushing in the tip. Olli’s mouth is insistent, sucking on his tongue when he opens up for him, and Geno grinds his hips down, dick sliding along the inside of Olli’s thigh.

Geno doesn’t mean to do it. Olli’s hand slides down from his jaw, pinching his nipple almost to the point of pain, and his hips buck up roughly, pushing toward Olli, sliding the head of his dick straight into his body. All Geno can feel is the hot, hot wet, the welcoming pull of Olli, opening around him, and the noise Olli makes is _primal_ , sending a sharp jolt of pure need all the way down to Geno’s toes.

“Shit, sorry,” Geno starts, pulling back, but Olli whines, and he freezes midway.

“You want me to-?” he asks, and Olli bites his lip between his teeth, thinking.

“ _Fuck_ , yeah. Do you want to?”

If he could think with his brain and not with his dick right now, common sense would prevail, but all he can feel is the way Olli’s pussy is quivering around him, and he slams forward, filling Olli completely. Olli yells out, eyes falling shut, and begs through clenched teeth “don’t stop, don’t fucking stop, I’m close.”

He’s got his hand on Olli’s dick, his fingers in Olli’s ass, his dick in Olli, all working together, moving toward the same goal. Olli’s covering his face now, but it doesn’t muffle the sound of his cries, desperate and pleading as Geno moves quicker. Geno angles his dick just right, just in the perfect spot to drag along Olli’s prostate, and Olli only gets out one needy “ _Geno”_ before his orgasm crashes into him, ass and pussy clutching around Geno as his dick pulses in Geno’s hand, striping the duvet with ropes of come.

Geno’s own orgasm comes as a surprise, can’t even give Olli a warning, and his instinct takes over, hips working on their own as he rides it out, Olli still spasming around him, pulling him in with every clutch, keeping him there. Olli’s panting like he’s been underwater for five minutes, and Geno pushes his face into Olli’s shoulder, head swimming so much he’s not sure he can see straight.

Olli quivers when Geno pulls out a minute later, stumbling to the bathroom on shaky legs in search of washcloths. When he comes back, Olli’s still got his leg bent up, arm stretched over it to press one finger into his pussy, scooping out come and inspecting it curiously, and Geno’s dick twitches weakly at the sight, curiously appraising the chances of another round. He bends down on Olli’s level, pressing a kiss to the inside of Olli’s thigh, before pushing the flat of his tongue against Olli’s slit, tip just pressing inside. Olli makes a wounded sound, and when Geno sits back on his knees, he can see Olli’s dick is a bit more eager, standing at half-mast, ready for service again.

Geno figures he’s at least got to sleep a little before they go again, so he cleans Olli thoroughly, finishing with himself when Olli gets up to go the bathroom, and Olli slides right into his arms when he holds the sheet up. Geno places a kiss to Olli’s shoulder and tucks his chin over it, tangling their legs together.

“Sorry about what happen,” he says, after a while.

Olli tenses up, then relaxes again. “You don’t have to apologize. I wanted it.”

That might be true, but Geno knows they weren’t exactly in the right position to make that decision coherently.

“Are you worried?” Olli asks, when he doesn’t say anything else.

He knows he doesn’t need to say it, because Olli would know better than him, but it’s not exactly like there’s Plan B he can go buy in the morning like women do, scientists still trying to find the right level of hormones to have the same effect. He also knows Olli’s got the best gynecologists in the world constantly reevaluating his birth control, making sure everything’s working as it should.

He says “no”, and it’s mostly the truth. Olli falls asleep in his arms a minute later, and he relaxes into him. It’s not the best thing they could have done, but the risk is low. He makes a note to be more careful, and tucks his nose into the back of Olli’s neck, staying like that until morning.

They are more careful, from then on. Geno makes sure they always have a plan, at least a basic touch-and-go conversation of what they’re doing when they start grinding up into each other, and Geno starts stashing condoms around the whole house, Olli’s imagination wilder than he would have imagined. Olli seems to find joy in jumping his bones in the most unexpected places, and Geno just idly hopes Max or Gennady or anyone else don’t find a strip of condoms in the den when they’re looking for the remote, or in his office when they’re looking for tape.

It’s almost easier than it should be. They go out to dinner, sometimes alone, sometimes with the other guys, but end up back at his place, back at Olli’s apartment, one time in the parking lot behind a Giant Eagle where Olli had sucked him off quickly, so quickly, Geno pushing himself to come and get out of there before the police showed up and the world found out about them by way of public indecency charges. They get into a pattern, and it just _works_.

The strength of their relationship is in the fact that neither need constant reaffirmation, and feel better when they balance spending time with each other with also spending time with friends, or alone. When Geno goes -3 in a loss to Dallas at home, Olli gives him space, letting him cool down on the flight to Long Island, not pushing him to talk about it. He texts Olli _up?_ once he gets settled in his hotel room, and Olli there’s a few minutes later. Geno puts his head in Olli’s lap, and Olli strokes through his hair until he’s almost to sleep, never saying a word about the game, about his performance, about anything. Geno feels the brush of Olli’s lips across his cheek just before he goes down, and wakes up feeling calm the next morning.

They’re winning games like nobody's business, he and Olli are turning into something great, and Geno feels happier than he has in a long time, maybe ever. There’s a sense of invincibility, the optimism of a new season, of how a fresh start can be formed by them, created into whatever they want it to be. Geno feels like there’s nothing that can stop them.

He should know better by now.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was supposed to be posted weeks ago, but it ended being 14,000 words longer than I intended (oops??) so I'm super sorry about the delay!!
> 
> Admittedly, this still needs a lot of editing probably, butttttt at this point I'm kind of sick of looking at so hopefully I'll come back in a week and clean it up
> 
> Some factual events have been mercilessly sacrificed or otherwise fudged for plot, sorry 'bout it
> 
> I don't know how many commas were harmed in the making of this story, and frankly, I'm afraid to find out

Geno finds out from Jen.  
  
She's motioning to the crowd around her frantically, a phone in each hand, when he stops by her office, meaning to talk about the group using the box he’s sponsoring this week. There are assistants from different departments everywhere, packed in so deep some are standing outside the door, and he slides his way in as they begin to head out.

"What happen?" he asks, because Jen’s always good to tell him anything, and she drops in her chair, looking at him as if she doesn’t even know where she should start.  
  
"They found a tumor during Olli's physical before the pre-season," she says. "He's going to talk about it with you later, after the game."  
  
The words slam into him like a wave, pulling him under the current. It feels like he's coming off the ice from an overly long shift; his heart's beating so loudly he can barely hear himself haltingly ask "what it mean?"  
  
Jen looks down at her notes, flipping through a note pad with messy lines, some words bolded and underlined. "Well, there's an 85% chance it's cancer. The operation should be pretty easy, it doesn't look like there's any spread, so that's good news. Obviously the important thing here is that we support Olli in any way we can. He's going to be out for a month or more, and you know he's going to hate that. Sid is already talking with the trainers about how to keep him out of the gym until he's healed, apparently."

"Sid know already?"   
  
His jaw’s clenched so tight he has to work it open manually just not to crack some teeth. It would be one thing for Olli to have kept this from him, sleeping in his bed and knowing about this for weeks, but for some reason not finding him worthy to be confided in. It’s something else completely that Olli spent almost every free moment with him for the last few weeks, and still turned to Sid.

 _Again_.

There’s a creeping sensation along his spine that he realizes is a flare of jealousy, making his skin crawl. He doesn't know how long he waits, busy turning what Jen’s words inside out and backwards in his head; she’s answering emails and paying little attention to his lingering presence. Eventually, she mumbles out a response, typing away, and then a moment later explains, reading over her email at the same time. "Yeah, Sid and the medical staff and the coaches. Just the important people in the beginning. I think Sid was the first person Olli went to after they told him they needed to run tests, because there was an abnormality."  
  
Geno knows she doesn't know what it means, but her words rub like salt in the wound - it feels like denial and betrayal, all at once. Geno’s hands are shaking by the time he makes it back to the locker room, slipping in as the room gets busy prepping; Horny kicks his shin guards as he walks by, but he barely looks up. When Sid holds out his fist for their handshake as they head out, he barely taps it, only just leaning forward to touch Sid’s chest; Sid eyes are sharp when they watch him turn away.  
  
They lose their first Flyers game of the season, at home, but Geno’s heart wasn’t into the game enough to truly feel the weight of it. He knows what's coming, watching the clock wind down, time flying past until Olli is going to stand in front of them and tell them he might have cancer, and for a shameful moment, he wishes he were anywhere else in the world. The mood in the room is already sullen, and everyone watches Sid disinterestedly as he gives his usual spiel, finishing with "so, Olli wants to talk to everyone about something important", and motioning for Olli to stand.  
  
Seeing Olli talk like this is borderline bizarre; Geno knows he's probably hating every second of it, every single player, trainer, coaching staff member all staring at him as one overwhelming entity. Every single man in the room is leaned forward, listening, and Olli smiles at them, that one-sided smile he does, the one that means he's putting on a brave face, just so they won’t worry.  
  
"Well, not to ruin an already great night," Olli starts, and there are ripples of laughter across the room, "but, a few weeks ago during my physical, the staff noticed I had a, uh- tumor? Yeah, um, a tumor in my throat. I had to have an ultrasound on it, and they did some other tests, but they think it might be cancer. They aren’t sure yet though."  
  
There’s this collective noise, thirty-five people's baited breath all rushing out at once, and it seems to spook Olli into uncertainty, before Sid places a hand on his back, nodding for him to go on.  
  
"I don't want you guys to worry, really," Olli says quickly, and Geno closes his eyes for a moment, overwhelmed that Olli is worried about _them_ instead of himself, because it's just something Olli would do. "It might be cancer. We don't know yet. But I feel fine, and they don't think it will affect me at all. I'm having surgery in November, and I'll be out a month. I'm sorry, guys."  
  
Tanger lets out a frustrated " _tabernac_ , Olli!", and everyone seems to break at once, coming over to embrace Olli, to reassure him he doesn't need to apologize, with offers to help with anything he needs. The day's already been so draining, and Geno feels the weight of emotion lodged in his throat as he looks at his team, surrounding Olli, supporting him, and Olli looking back, so strong and mature despite his age, accepting their concern graciously.   
  
It's hell to drag himself over, but Geno manages a quick squeeze to Olli's shoulder in passing as he heads off for a shower, feeling guilty as Olli turns to watch him walk past, looking shaken. Geno avoids Sid’s gaze, watching him like a hawk across the room, his exchange with Olli not going unnoticed. Geno manages to evade both of them while he packs up in the change room, a call to be at the airport for the plane to Detroit by 12:30, but Sid finds him alone in the hallway anyway.  
  
" _Geno_ ," Sid warns, calling after him, but he's not in the mood to listen to any sermons today.  
  
"Don't start," he snaps, turning around. Sid looks furious, but he doesn’t try to stop him from leaving, and Geno’s too raw to be able to stand and face him right now.

The mood on the airplane is somber, and most of them go right to sleep, or at least find pretending is better than the alternative. Geno doesn't miss the fact that Olli isn't one of them, glancing around almost nervously as he walks down the aisle, as if to take in how everyone's feeling, and Geno so badly wants to go and console him, and tell him it's not his fault. They'd be like this even if he didn't tell them about the tumor, because they're tired and they lost to the fucking _Flyers_ at home and there's no plane shenanigans after that. Geno knows Olli thinks he's done this to them, and he doesn't know how to reach out and help him see it's not that at all, not when he's carrying this bitterness in his heart.  
  
Geno doesn’t see Sid and Olli for the rest of the day, not out of any particular elusiveness on his part, but because both of them give him the space he’s obviously demanded. He feels the distinct shame of internalizing that, yes, he is being an asshole, but then he remembers Olli sleeping in his bed while confiding his secrets to Sid, and the fire of his anger blazes higher again. Sid is over-enthusiastic in their pregame handshake, straight up punching his chest guard when they bump, and he slaps Sid's ass way too hard, smiling for the first time all day.  
  
Duper scores early, and they all seem to be in quickly bettering spirits. Halfway through the first period, Geno’s rushing the net, Olli at the boards with the puck; he circles behind the net, meaning to get himself open, when he sees the puck go in as Olli falls on his knees, Olli's first of the season. By the time he gets around the traffic, Olli's getting to his feet, and it's just so natural to drag him in, leg coming up to wrap around him as he bumps their heads together.  
  
It’s pure adrenaline, not something he even thinks about for a second, but Olli tenses up, looking surprised as Combs slams into them. Geno drops him arms, turning toward the bench to get their fist bumps, but the image of Olli’s shock stays with him for the rest of the night. It’s concrete proof that Olli is expecting him to remain cold, expecting him to stay mad, and he knows that he doesn’t want to be angry at him, not right now.

He just doesn’t know to reconcile that.

They go home for a few days break, and Geno sits at home, barely listening to Max when he comes over to hang out. Max snaps his fingers at the end of his nose, drawing him out of his mind and back to his living room, and Max laughs, commenting on how weird he’s being lately. He doesn’t even think about talking to Olli, and Olli doesn’t try, either. When he lays down to sleep, Olli’s wide-eyed look after his goal flashes in bright sequences on repeat in his head.   
  
Olli’s press conference is after morning skate a few days later, and the rest of them watch together in silence, sitting around the couches and chairs in the lounge. Olli looks composed, waiting for Rutherford to speak first before answering questions, and Geno’s struck once again by how Olli is just a completely special person, poised in a way he never was at this age. Olli’s voice holds steady when he explains that he feels fine, he just might have cancer now.

“Should be out there with him,” Geno says, and half of the room turns to look at him.

No one seems to know what to say. They look back at the TV, watching Olli stand alone and face the media. It’s something they do all the time, but at least there’s someone next to them when they’re in a scrum in the room, someone next to them at the table after playoff game pressers. Olli seems unphased, but Geno sees the tension pulse through him, mouth pulled tight as he listens, eyes looking down and not at the reporters.

“ _Tabernac_ , we should have. We shouldn’t have let him go alone,” Tanger says, running a hard through his hair.

Geno doesn’t stay for end of the press conference.

* * *

They don’t speak again before Olli has surgery. There’s a brief moment Geno almost caves, at the Halloween party, where he sees Olli in his stupid Cheshire Cat costume, following Tanger around like a baby duck, and remembers how Olli used to do that to him. It’s easy to catch Olli’s eye over the dance floor, and Olli gives him a forlorn smile. Geno stays by Max’s side and tries to have fun regardless, but spends the night dwelling on how hollow he feels inside.

He spends four hours debating the night before Olli has surgery what he should do, and settles on a text wishing him the best. He doesn’t expect a text back, but it helps clear his own conscious a little, just wanting Olli to know that despite everything, he hasn’t forgotten him. That he still cares.

It might be overkill to send Olli the basket, but Geno can’t help himself. He knows Olli won’t eat junk food, so he sends a fruit bouquet instead, hoping Olli doesn’t balk at the chocolate. They fly out the night before Olli has surgery for a five-game road trip, and Geno doesn’t know if being away is a reprieve or not. Rutherford lets them know Olli’s surgery went well during morning practice in Minnesota, and the relief is so overwhelming Geno spends a few minutes sitting in a bathroom stall while the guys are heading out to the ice, wiping away the tears before they can fall.

Olli sends him a picture of a partially drunk smoothie next to the half-empty fruit bouquet and a thumbs up emoji the next morning; the chocolate strawberries are still in the vase.

He calls Olli right after midnight from Buffalo, torn between a hope he’s not awake and a desperation he’ll answer. The click of the pick up makes his breath catch, and he almost falls apart at Olli’s “hey, G.”

“Hey. How you feel?” Geno asks, and Olli laughs low, voice sounding rough.

“Honestly- I’ve felt better.”

Olli’s voice is scratchy, a husky timbre that Geno can tell is pained. “I’m not want you hurt throat more, so not have to talk a lot. I’m just want to say I hope you okay. I’m know I’m not say before surgery, but- not fair this happen. It sucks you sick, but you never complain, never act like big deal. You so strong, I’m proud of you every day. Didn’t say before because I was being dick, was angry, so I’m sorry. I’m sorry can’t take it back.”

He’s rambling, because he feels if he stops to think about it now, he’ll never be able to get it all out. Olli doesn’t say anything for a while, and Geno wonders if maybe he’s just fallen asleep, a habit Geno discovered early when he’d roll over to say goodnight and Olli would lights out already, one arm thrown over his face.

He clears his throat, and he can hear Olli sigh.

“I should say sorry, too,” Olli says. “It’s not a good reason but- listen, we were so happy, I thought everything was finally working out, and I didn’t want to ruin it, I guess. You’re right to be angry, I just thought maybe, the longer I didn’t tell you, the longer we could be happy.”

Geno wants to understand that, but it doesn’t make sense to him.

“Olli, you tell me anything, I’m here listen, you know? Can’t be good together if only happy, going to be sad sometimes,” Geno says, feeling defensive, and while he thinks it’s mostly true, he also hasn’t exactly proven to Olli he’s not above giving into assumption and letting his feelings get the best of him. They’ve both been wrong about a lot of things, but Geno thinks they’ve both been able to recognize that, at least.

“You’re right,” Olli agrees. “You’ve always listened, when I needed you. I can’t completely explain it, I guess. I was afraid to tell anyone, I think because then I’d have to admit it was happening to myself. I didn’t tell my parents for like two weeks.”

“You tell other people, too,” Geno adds, trying for nonchalant and sounding transparent anyway.

Olli’s silence is staggering.

“That’s true,” Olli says finally. “I chose to tell Jim, because it either had to be me or Dr. Vyas doing it, and I felt like that was my responsibility. And I agreed with Jim that the important people should know, though honestly I didn’t expect that to include Mario and Sid in that, although I understand why Jim told them. Mario’s really been there for me these last few weeks, you know, because he knows what it’s like. Sid and I never discussed it in person, I don’t think, but Sid did text me that anything I needed, he would help me with. It’s been good to have the support.”

Olli’s too good of a person to ever throw this back in his face, but Geno doesn’t miss the things left unsaid. Olli’s taking full responsibility for not telling him what was going on, and without making excuses for himself, but not letting any misconceptions go on. Geno’s feels hot all over, running over Olli’s words again, and he realizes, sitting alone in his hotel room, he’s completely, totally embarrassed of himself. Olli’s essentially accepting the blame, a redux of the entire carrier fiasco, but Geno knows he was the one in the wrong. His disgust is hard to stomach.

“I thought- Jen say you tell-,” he fumbles out, “I’m think you not trust me again.”

Olli laughs a little, but it’s sad. “Did you think about maybe asking me?”

No. They both know it. Again, he had assumed something and accepted it as fact, and never clarified with Olli about what had actually happened, then proceeded to essentially abandon Olli in what was probably his greatest time of need in their entire relationship. He’s almost shocked Olli is even willing to talk to him at this point, much less seem to actively not hold a grudge against him.

“I can’t take back. I say sorry but not good enough. But I’m promise, I be better. I try harder. I’m here for you. I’m be better for you, Olli.”

“It’s not all you, and I don’t want you to only blame yourself. I also need to be better,” Olli says, and then seems to break a little. “Fuck, G, I miss you so much. I want you here with me right now.”

“Trip over soon, almost home, okay?” Geno reassures, and Olli takes a wavering breath.

“I know, I just- I missed you even before the trip,” Olli says, and Geno feels his heart start to splinter.

“Almost home, Olli,” he soothes, “almost home.”

* * *

 When he gets back from Toronto a week later, Olli’s car is parked in his garage. It’s almost one in the morning, and he lets himself in quietly; it’s dark in the kitchen and the living room - he’s glad Olli didn’t wait up for him. The door to his room is cracked slightly, and he lets himself in softly. Olli is already asleep on the other side of the bed, and Geno stands next to him, looking at the moonlight cut across the room, a sliver illuminating the scar forming at the base of Olli’s throat. He reaches out, fingers just brushing the line, and Olli mumbles in his sleep, turning on his side. Geno washes his face and brushes his teeth and slides in beside Olli, snuggling in close. Olli just barely breaches consciousness, long enough for a smile and a kiss, before they both go down together.

Geno’s wake-up call is a coffee-warmed kiss pressed to his temple. He rolls on his back and squints up at Olli, already dressed with a coffee mug in one hand and a piece of toast in the other. In his peripheral view, he can see the clock says 7:49, and he manages to give Olli a deadly look and a “why?”

“I have morning skate before you,” Olli explains, not particularly phased at his irritation. “But if you’re going to get to practice by 9:30, I figured you better start trying to wake up now. There’s food downstairs.”

Indeed, there’s sausage and eggs left in a warm oven, and Geno eats as his mind drifts, watching the flurries swirl in the wind outside the kitchen window. It’s one of those lifeless days that reminds him of Magnitogorsk, when everything is gray all day without a hope of sun; on principle, he bitterly hates the cold, but everything feels warm this morning - the house around him, his feet in his slippers, the cup of tea in his hands, the place on his temple where Olli had kissed him good morning. He cleans up the dishes, tidying the mess Olli left on the counter; he wanders when Olli started drinking tea for breakfast instead of coffee as he puts away the kettle left out.

Olli is already done and gone by the time he gets to practice, seventeen minutes late. Chris says something about appointments when he helps Geno stretch his knee, and then fills him in about the going-ons of the morning. Olli looks like he’ll be ready for their game in two days, and the news is confirmed by Johnston after practice.

There’s joy for everyone in Olli’s recovery, but it’s overshadowed by news from Duper. 

“He’s going to have a conference,” Sid says, staring at the roll of tape in his hand as Geno looks at Duper’s empty stall. Sid breath wavers, blown out through pursed lips, and Geno clasps a hand on Sid’s shoulder, squeezing hard. “I don’t know why I’m- he’s not done, you know? But they don’t know when he’ll come back.”

Sid’s too superstitious to put that curse on Duper, but there’s an unspoken _if he comes back_ lingering between the spaces in his words. It’s only natural, Geno decides, to stand by Duper, not leaving him alone like they had with Olli, and he, Sid, Kuni, and Tanger end up in the conference room, watching Duper, like Olli before him, say he’ll be okay, he just doesn’t know _when_.

Geno goes out to lunch Sid and Tanger in Sewickley Heights, a distraction from all of their combined funks, and it almost seems to work on Sid. He surreptitiously texts Olli under the table, fishing for more exciting plans, but Olli texts back much later, saying he’s got multiple doctor visits all day. Geno writes it off as last minute appointments before he gets the green light for their game, and stays home for the rest of the day, cranking up the heat and lighting a fire in the den.

Everything settles back in to an almost normal. They pick up where they left off, and Geno tries to put everything in the past, feeling the subject has been discussed to completion. Olli seems to be an open book when they’re together, except talking about Duper and the almost-certain end of his season, maybe his career. Geno brushes it off as Olli being uncomfortable due to his own close call. He goes out of his way to support Olli as much as he can, holding Olli’s hand as the doctor calls him to say that, yes, it was cancerous, and holding Olli close as he had cried, in fear and relief, and feels everything is going exactly how it should.

Even when Olli starts changing.

It’s not like Olli ditches him; it’s just, he wakes up most mornings after Olli’s stayed over to Olli kissing his cheek, dressed and ready to go. Olli never leaves without telling him, but he always seems rushed: he wants to go ahead for practice, he has errands to do. Geno begins to miss waking up next to him, rolling over and pulling Olli into his arms for another hour of cuddling, to sweet, gross morning-breath kisses, but Olli never gives him the chance.

“It doesn’t seem like he’s lying,” Seryozha says carefully, listening to every word of Geno’s worries when he calls for advice, because who else is he going to talk to about this. “Do you think he’s running off to go jump in someone else’s bed at 7 am?”

“No,” Geno says, and he means that. “But why would he start this suddenly?”

“Maybe he really is this busy. You know how precious free time is during the season. I don’t think he’s trying to get away from you, necessarily. Sometimes you just want to go buy toilet paper by yourself.”

Admittedly, Geno can acknowledge Olli is spending most of free time with him lately, and that Seryozha’s probably right; Olli’s getting his own time in when he can, and Geno lets it drop.

Until Olli starts pulling back.

It starts so suddenly - Olli tensing when Geno comes up behind him and drapes over him, pulling away as soon as possible. The way Olli sleeps on his other side now, turned away from Geno in bed. Cuddling itself turns brief, only done in certain positions. Geno doesn’t know how to breach talking about it, but he starts wondering if he did something wrong. Emotionally, Olli still seems open and earnest, and Geno begins to worry that, maybe, Olli no longer feels attracted to him.

Geno watches Olli undress after the Canes game, thinking about what he should say to him. Olli’s already declined an invitation to spend the night at his house, citing a waiting Skype call to his parents when they get back to the city, and Geno’s not sure if he’s being brushed off or not. Olli’s back ripples as he gets off his chest guard, material of his compression shirt clinging to the muscle, and Geno watches in awe, Olli’s body beautiful, always. Olli reaches a hand over the back of his head, grabbing the collar to pull over, when he freezes, arm locked. Geno watches him rotate it back down awkwardly, and he can tell by the way Olli’s hunched over that he’s in pain. He watches until Olli gets the shirt off, obviously straining as he gets it down that arm.

It’s the same shoulder Olli had surgery on during the off-season.

Geno’s not going to try to bring this up when they’re surrounded by the rest of the team, but he sees his opportunity when Olli heads to the bathroom on the plane. He follows him back and sits in the last row of seats, dragging Olli down next to him when Olli steps out of the bathroom.

“How long?” Geno asks, voice almost challenging Olli to deny it, and Olli looks at him almost in a panic.

“What?” Olli says, voice panicked, and Geno gestures to his shoulder. Olli sinks back in the seat, looking numb, and runs a hand through his hair until it stands up on end.

“The whole season, basically. It was never a hundred percent. It’s fucking barely like even ten percent now.”

“ _Blyat_ , Olli,” Geno says under his breath. “You going to say something?”

Olli looks at him, as if he’s unsure of how to answer. “At first, I didn’t think it was anything worth talking about. I mean, we’re hurt all fucking season anyway, we could talk about everything that hurts every single day and never run out of new things to mention. But then it started to get worse, even when I was off the ice, and they’re thinking I might have to rehab it. No one knows what to do yet. All I can tell you is it hurts, and I might be fine, or I might be…you know.”

Rehabbing it means weeks. No real time frame, just the tease of a hope, that maybe, under the best circumstances, he can come back, 6-8 weeks, minimum. Rehabbing it means there’s something unspoken, a hint of more time, a season ended. A worst-case scenario. Olli seems so uncomfortable talking about this, and Geno knows better than to press; superstitions mean you just don’t mess around with talking about injuries. No one wants to say there’s a chance, because fate comes along and fucks that right up, and suddenly you’re missing another five games because of some setback. It explains Olli’s touchiness and numerous appointments, his uneasiness about Duper’s situation, and Geno feels wholly relieved.

“I help how I can, okay?” Geno reassures. “If I do something that not help, make it worse, tell me, you know.”

Olli agrees, and heads back up to his seat. He keeps a passive face as they deplane, but Geno doesn’t miss the uncomfortable twitch of his mouth as he pulls on his jacket, and the way he shuffles his bag to the other side, arm hanging loose. Olli seems to bear it for the next two games, but Geno can’t help but track his every move, and it’s agony to watch. The smallest movement makes Olli’s face pull tight, and when Olli catches him watching, he guards his expression, turning away. Geno knows Olli isn’t going to be able to handle this well.

Olli just keeps going. Whether it’s adrenaline or Olli powering through it by sheer force of determination, no one else seems any wiser, and Olli keeps putting up points. They have Ottawa at home early in December, down one in the second, when Olli shoots from the blueline, a saucer that Geno just manages to get a stick on. Olli throws arms around his shoulder, screaming “fuck yeah!” in his ear. Everyone’s buzzing in the locker room, the content sort of excitement that moves like a wave through them. Sutter is talking, ready to pass on to the next player of the game, and Geno just catches his name in what he’s saying; Olli’s stall is empty, and Chris isn’t in the room either.

Geno has to give a few words, answer reporters, and clean up before he can go try to find Olli. Olli’s laying on an examining table without his gear, shoulder taped and eyes upturned, staring at the ceiling. There are a few trainers looking at medical notes on Olli’s chart, and Geno slides around them. He takes Olli’s hand, squeezing it once, and as Olli turns to look at him, a tear falls from the corner of his eye, down the side of his face to the table. Olli’s throat moves as it works, and Geno’s attention is drawn to it; the scar there is pink, a halo around it of bright skin. Geno looks away, at Olli’s shoulder, the scar white now, almost healed over.

It’s too much to bear.

“See you later,” Geno whispers, squeezing again, and Olli, sweet as ever, gives him a smile.

Geno’s not surprised that Olli doesn’t reach out to him for a few days. Olli sends him one sad picture from a doctor’s office, arm already in a sling. _They want to try rehabbing_ , his text says, and Geno sends up a prayer to any higher being out there that it would be gracious enough to allow that to work. For one unsure moment, Geno’s brain reminds him two surgeries on the same area in barely six months could be career-ending, but he flings the idea as hard as he can out of his consciousness, slamming the door to any similar thought so hard he almost recoils.

They fly to Columbus a week later, and Geno feels Sid’s gaze upon him like a lurking shadow, following his every move. He catches Sid’s eye as they’re getting off the plane, and the look he finds there makes his stomach turns. Something’s up. Sid can’t get him alone by the time they make it to the hotel, but he wakes up to a text in the morning.

_Meet me at the bench after skate._

It’s not the first time he and Sid have rendezvoused for a serious discussion away from rest of the team, but Geno has never been able to shake the feeling of being sent to the principal’s office, or standing before a jury about to read a verdict. Sid is taping his stick quietly by the bench door, slow and meticulous, as if they were intending to sit in companionable silence, nothing more. Sid finishes his stick, and Geno’s leg bounces. Sid sits next to him, and looks out onto the ice.

“You need to talk to Olli.”

It wasn’t like he hadn’t seen this coming, that it had to be about Olli, but having that confirmed feels worse than he had prepared himself for.

“Why?”

Sid opens his mouth, but nothing comes out; Sid’s usually not left looking for words, and the air crackles uneasy between them. Sid looks at him, and he looks worried. Eventually, he says “I can’t tell you. That is, it’s not my place to. And to be honest, I wish Mario hadn’t even told me. It’s- serious, G. You need to talk to him as soon as possible.”

Geno knows Sid isn’t withholding information for any other reason but out of respect for Olli. He also knows there are only so many things it could be, and he doesn’t think Sid would even be this upset over Olli needing another surgery on the shoulder, which would undoubtedly be the end to Olli’s season.

The word _cancer_ follows him around like a black cloud. It haunts his sleep as he tries to nap. It slips through his mind as he eats dinner. He puts his gear on mechanically, _cancercancercancer_ like a cadence, chanting over and over. He’s distracted all game, present in body but not mind. Nothing sticks during the game or OT, and when he’s called first for the shootout, Sergei easily swats away his attempt.

It takes Olli twelve hours to reply when Geno texts him “need to talk.” He debates calling, but he doesn’t know if he can find his voice. As it is, he finally gets back a “tomorrow after practice?”, and he sends back “I come after I done” in less than a minute. He barely sleeps when he gets home, the cloud now a full-blown cyclone in his head at this point, and is noticeably distracted during practice, to Johnston’s irritation. He passes Sid on the ice, mentioning his plans for after practice, and Sid gives him a solemn nod and a tap with his stick.

Geno’s palms are sweating by the time he pulls into Olli’s parking garage, and he wipes them on his pants as he rides the elevator up after Olli buzzes him in. Olli is waiting for him at the door, and doesn’t say anything as he steps inside and toes off his shoes, following Olli to the living room. He sits on the edge of the couch, Olli sitting on the ottoman across from him, but it’s so different now than the first time, months ago, when Olli had leaned across the distance and kissed him.

“Olli,” Geno says finally, when it looks like Olli is making no moves to speak first, “what happen?”

Olli blows out a long breath, staring pointedly at his knees, and closes his eyes for a moment, composing himself. They’ve barely even gotten into it and Olli already looks like he’s going to fall apart. His Olli, the same one who had stood alone in front of the media and said, maybe I have cancer, and acted like it was just anything he had to deal with. The same kid who had made jokes in the locker room when he told the team, and then apologized for it all, because he didn’t want to upset everyone. Geno knew from Sid’s first worried look that something was wrong, really wrong, but he didn’t realize it would be this bad.

“There’s something I need to tell you,” Olli says, and he wants to laugh, because _obviously_ , but he’s so fucking worried he can’t even find the humor in it. Geno waits on a baited breath as Olli chews on his lip, looking down at his hands; he wants to reach out and take them, but he’s afraid it will make Olli shatter.

“It back…?” he offers, heart pounding as he looks at Olli’s scar, and Olli shakes his head. It’s not that, then. For a moment, the tension of two days of worry begins to ebb, but the relief is temporary. If it isn’t that, then what the fuck _is_ it.

“Shoulder need surgery?” Geno suggests, and Olli looks up, as if he’s not sure what to answer, but shakes his head at that, too.

It doesn’t make sense. A thought slides in his mind. If it’s apparently not something health related, but serious enough to warrant all this, there’s only one thing it might be.

“They gonna trade you?” Geno asks, words almost impossible to say out loud, and Olli tenses.

“No.”

He’s not trying to come off terse, but he’s so on edge, it seeps through when he almost snaps, “Olli, what happen-”

“I’m pregnant, Geno.”

The clock ticks on the wall, and Geno probably listens to the _tick-tock-tick_ for a whole minute before he feels he comes back to himself. At first, he can’t say anything. It’s like his brain can’t process it; he knows what the word _I’m_ and what the word _pregnant_ means, understands the whole sentence when said together, but he doesn’t comprehend it coming out of Olli’s mouth. And then, when it finally sinks in, when he finally understands how to work the equation out, he manages a single, solitary, “fuck.”

Olli winces, lip quivering as he watches his reaction.

“Oh, no, no Olli, don’t cry,” Geno starts, reaching out for Olli’s hand, but Olli evades him, dragging the back of his hand across both cheeks. In his worry, or perhaps obliviousness worsened by his narrow-minded fear, he hadn’t even noticed the red-rim of Olli’s eyes, bloodshot and tired, or the puffiness in his face. Olli had been this upset, knowing he was going to have to tell him, and it’s not much of a surprise at what Olli tries to say.

“I’m so sorry,” Olli says, almost whispering as his voice breaks, “that I’ve ruined everything.”

Geno looks at Olli, looking back at him, and realizes Olli’s waiting for some type of confirmation or agreement. Olli is expecting anger, or resentment, some sort of denouncement or blame, and some part of him wonders if it’s him, whether all the other shit he’s put Olli through has made Olli believe that would be his response.

“You not ruin- Olli, what you mean?” There are no less than six million thoughts flying around his head, but the foremost is making sure Olli is okay.

“The organization is going to have to announce it, and that means they’re going to ask questions. What if they ask who else is a carrier? What if they find out about Sid? I’m going to have it, Geno. I already decided. I told you I would. The doctor said my birth control just wasn’t as effective as it should have been. It’s neither of our faults, except maybe we should have used condoms, but it doesn’t matter. I didn’t tell anyone it’s yours, and if you don’t want-”

“Olli!”

Olli freezes, and Geno watches as a tear falls from his bottom lashes, dropping to the fabric of his khakis, the spot almost a perfect circle. Geno kneels down on the carpet between Olli’s legs, and looks up at him, linking their fingers together. Olli’s barely even breathing, and he looks so fragile Geno’s heart breaks a thousand times over once again.

“Take breath, Olli.”

Olli closes his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath and then another, and Geno uses the hem of his sleeve to wipe away the tears and snot from Olli’s face. Olli laughs a little, eyes still closed, and he uses the time to compose the chaos reigning within himself. Everything’s kind of happening all at once, and he needs for Olli to slow down just a little. He gives Olli some time to calm down before he clears his throat, and Olli opens his eyes again, looking down on him. They’re still wet with tears, but he seems to be okay to try talking about this again.

“Explain. Slow.”

Olli starts from the beginning. During bloodwork before his surgery, it had come back that he was pregnant. The doctors had not informed the medical staff from the organization, but had a discussion with him about his options in private. The priority was getting rid of the tumor no matter what, because if it were cancer, it would potentially hurt the pregnancy in ways they didn’t really into detail about, for good reason.

Geno can’t help but interrupt him at that. “You come back and play, with baby?” He’s pissed about that, but Olli seems to close within himself at his anger, and he pushes it back for the moment, rubbing circles with his thumb across the back of Olli’s hand.

“They said it was okay. It’s so early on and so tiny, they said even checks wouldn’t hurt it. I swear, Geno, if they said I needed to stop, I would have.”

Geno’s not happy about it at all. “How long?” he asks, trying to get his mind somewhere else.

Olli looks unsure. “Almost ten weeks. They think, probably the first few weeks of October.”

“Maybe night before first game,” he wonders out loud, and Olli is silent for a moment.

“Yeah, it’d kind of have to be. It’s the only time I’ve ever, you know…” Olli waves a hand, as if to explain, and Geno presses his fingers into his eyes, feeling the beginning of a migraine forming. Of course it was Olli’s first time, and of course he wouldn’t make a big deal out of it. He wouldn’t say a single word about it, because he’s Olli, and he never makes a big deal, out of anything. Ever.

Initially, the plan was to go for his first check-up last week, but the shoulder appointments took precedence. He had met with Johnston, Mario, Dr. Vyas, and Jen to discuss his options, and they had supported his decision fully. When it seemed like rehabbing it wasn’t going to work, all the doctors had come together to discuss whether he should just have the surgery, since he was going to be out because of the pregnancy anyway. Then he had called his family and told them.

All the puzzle pieces slowly start fitting in the right spots. Surgery and pregnancy - Olli’s season over completely. And yet-

“When you going to tell me? Sid have to say, ‘need to talk to Olli.’ He tell you he tell me?”

“I-yes,” Olli says, and Geno knows he’s putting Olli back on edge, but this isn’t something he can exactly ignore. “I understood why Mario told him, because obviously, so he came over and we talked. He urged me to tell you, but I guess he thought I wasn’t doing it fast enough. He told me he told you to talk to me when you guys were in Columbus. It’s not an excuse, believe me, but I was really scared. I almost texted you like a thousand times, but I could never send it. I don’t know. This isn’t something I ever thought I would be having to tell someone at this point in my life.”

It’s not a consolation. If this hadn’t been a problem before, he’d just be angry, but he feels almost betrayed. “Why scared? Why not just say? You hide from me forever?” he demands.

Olli seems panicked. “Geno, no, that’s not-”

“Don’t think I’m see you in few month, maybe, and think why you now have baby bump? Don’t think in year baby walk around and someone say, hey, baby look like Geno?”

That image seems to resonate with both of them, and he sits back on the floor, feeling all the fight go out of him. Soon, that will be an exact reality, a little version of himself running around after him. _Oh my fucking god,_ he realizes for the first time since Olli said it _, I’m going to be a father_.

Geno’s heard the phrase “laugh just not to cry”, but he never really understood it until now. He pushes his head against his upturned knees and dissolves into laughter, so hard he can’t breathe. It feels like he’s lost sense of reality, like he’s floating in some kind of demented euphoria, and it doesn’t even matter. He’s impregnated his twenty year old teammate, and soon the whole world is going to be talking about it.

The tears come, eventually. “Oh, fuck, Olli,” he chokes out, and now it’s Olli’s turn to console him, hand stroking his hair softly until he settles in little hiccups.

“Let me make tea,” Olli says, when he’s finally calmed down, and he moves to the couch by the time Olli returns. Olli puts a tray on the ottoman, pouring him a cup and leaving him to doctor it himself. He eyes the jam, spoon balanced atop the lid, wondering.

“Put jelly in tea?” he asks as Olli adds a bit of cream to his own cup, and Olli licks his spoon, looking at him. He swallows hard.

“No, but- don’t you?”

His face feels warm. “Didn’t know you know,” he mumbles, twisting open the cap of the jar.

Olli blows a cool breath across the rim of his cup, making steam dance away. In truth, he could make Olli’s tea for him, and probably his coffee, too. He guesses, after all those breakfasts together,  the mornings where Olli would come tripping down the stairs, wrapping an arm around his waist as he drank his morning cup, it’s not so strange.

There’s so much Geno knows about Olli, like how he has to have the room pitch black to sleep, and how much he hates peppers, but there’s so much he doesn’t, too, all the things he hides away in his heart, or, at least, the things he hides away from him. He wants so much for Olli to be open to him, especially now, but he himself isn’t sure he trusts Olli enough to even try.

Olli drinks half of his cup before he says anything else. “So, what are we going to do?”

“Have a baby,” he responds without missing a beat, and Olli looks playfully annoyed.

“Yes, but- do you want- I meant that no one has to know. No one you don’t want to know, that is.”

Olli’s offering him a way out, at least to the public; he can’t help admit it’s tempting. There’s backlash to be faced, and he probably won’t get in trouble, not legally, but potential public ostracization doesn’t exactly feel like a better option. He thinks of Olli’s press conference, where he stood up in front of the media, alone, and said that, yes, maybe he had cancer, but that he didn’t think it was affecting him, and they had all sat and watched it together, in awe, at his poise, at his maturity. Olli could do it again, go up there and tell the world that, yes, he’s pregnant, and there would be no way to downplay how much of an accident it was. Olli would be questioned, all alone, about if he thinks he’ll ever come back, journalists trying to find out _who_ without asking the question itself, and he could sit in the shadows and watch, from a distance, no one the wiser.

But he won’t do that to Olli, and he won’t do that to himself. No matter what, even if he hides now, one day, he’ll want to be able to go to a game, or hell, even the grocery store, with this child. He doesn’t want to be a coward, letting Olli take the fall by himself, to pop up and acknowledge his role much later, after the water has been tested and it seems safer. When the news is old, and the speculation has run it’s course.

Geno reaches across the space between them, taking Olli’s hand. “ _We_ gonna have baby, Olli.”

* * *

There’s no time to get excited, or even used to the idea.

What Geno really needs is to have a day off, with Olli, to really discuss what they’re going to do. They schedule a meeting with Jen, Rutherford, Mario, and Johnston for later in the month, and Olli seems to be busy with rehabbing his shoulder. They’re trying a last ditch effort to avoid the surgery, but no one’s particularly hopeful.

He needs a day with Olli and maybe a fucking therapist, to discuss how to talk to each other, without keeping secrets or holding grudges, before they spend the next eighteen-plus years in this unbreakable partnership together.

In the meantime, the team is being lectured on disease-prevention protocol after Sunshine and Sid pop up with mumps, and he feels like he’s in kindergarten all over again - don’t drink someone else’s drink, don’t take someone else’s food, wash your hands, sneeze in your elbow. He texts Olli a few times, just making sure how he’s doing, and gets little response. He knows he shouldn’t overly worry, Olli not exactly being the greatest texter to begin with, but now it feels like double the weight, between Olli and the baby. He would usually ask Sid or Sunshine if they’ve spoken to him, but they’re out of contact at the moment, and he’s not about to ask Jussi how Olli’s doing.

Geno goes in for morning practice before they play Colorado at home, and is immediately pulled out of the locker room and quarantined in the medical staff’s area. They push him down on a table, and someone snaps on a pair of gloves, oral swab pressed between his lips before he can even ask what’s going on.

“I have mumps?” he asks, bewildered. He feels fine, and they already went over the symptoms to watch out for at least thirty-three times, give or take. The assistant drops the swab into a vial, placing that into a bag, and hands it off to someone else, who basically dashes out of the room in their haste.

“Listen, Geno,” he says, and Geno remembers his name is Adam. “It’s just precautionary. Now, I need to ask a few questions.”

He doesn’t understand why they just didn’t all get tested to begin with and make everyone’s lives easier. “Okay?”

“Have you shared any cups, or water bottles with anyone?” Adam asks.

He thinks about it. “Not since told us not share.”

“Good, that’s good. And no shared chapstick or anything like that, right?”

He barely uses his own chapstick, and let’s Adam know that.

Adam looks a little uneasy, and gets up off his stool to make sure the door leading out to the hallway is closed tight. “When was the last time you were physically intimate with anyone else on the team? This could include kissing, or other things like that.”

He just stares at Adam, at first because it takes a minute to get what he’s asking for, and then because he can’t believe he’s being asked it.

“What.”

It’s more statement that question, but Adam seems to think he’s confused. “Mumps can be passed through saliva- spit, that is. So, if you’ve encountered anyone else’s spit that has mumps, in any way, you could be infected.”

“Yes, yes, I get, but why you ask this?” he says, getting flustered, and Adam is really, really starting to look uncomfortable.

Adam says “Olli has mumps-” and that’s about as far as he gets before Geno’s off the table, throwing open to door and stalking down the hall. Adam follows after him, urging him to listen, but Geno’s ignores him, intent on searching out someone in particular. 

Rutherford is having a discussion with the trainers about the recent call-ups in light of the mumps outbreak, and Geno waits impatiently at the edge of the conversation, a looming force which seems to make a few of them uneasy, but not Rutherford himself. He rocks on his feet, waiting for the conversation to end, and jerks his head towards the offices when Rutherford turns to him.

“We talk,” he says, not a question, and Rutherford doesn’t seem the least bit bothered by the command.

Geno motions for Adam to come along with them, and they take Johnston’s office, empty at the moment. Adam looks like he’s debating if he’s about to be fired, Rutherford looks serenely calm, and if he had to guess, he must look like Death himself, come to collect souls of the weak.

“Everyone know about us?” Geno half-yells, and Rutherford folds his hands on the desk, glancing at Adam’s stricken face before turning back to him.

“It was important the medical staff knew of Olli’s condition,” Rutherford explains, “seeing as he is still receiving half of his medical treatment from the members of this medical team. Unfortunately, these circumstances meant that some things also had to be discussed with the staff, in this case, your relationship. It is my understanding that the staff is aware they will be fired at any break of confidentiality. Right, Adam?”

Adam looks as if he’d rather set himself on fire than ever let this slip, and Rutherford sends them on their way. Geno finds it difficult to focus on practice, knowing all these things no one else on the ice knows, besides Sid, and to not have a confidant to lean on. Not for the first time, he wishes Seryozha were here, in person. Geno knows he’s still only a phone call away, but he’s not ready to have that conversation yet. Not until he makes sense of it all, himself.

Dr. Vyas calls him into his office after he’s done showering. Geno assumes they’ll talk about his potential contamination, but he’s surprised when Dr. Vyas says “I’d like to talk about Olli.”

“He okay, yes?” he asks, and Dr. Vyas makes an indecipherable face.

“Well, yes. He’s incredibly uncomfortable, but he will be alright. He must remain in quarantine for the rest of the week, so unfortunately, that means he cannot have visitors.”

Geno hates it, immediately, and Dr. Vyas gives him a leveling look, as if he expects just the exact type of shenanigans of not listening to doctor’s orders from someone like him. He relents, nodding to show he understand an order is an order, and Dr. Vyas leans back in his chair, fingers steepled against his top lip.

“The baby…” he starts, and Geno feels a cold sweat break out along his skin. “There is a higher risk of miscarriage in mumps patients that are in the first trimester, before 12 weeks of pregnancy. Now, Olli is very close to the second trimester, when the overall risk of miscarriage goes down. I would not tell anyone about the pregnancy yet, until the illness passes. Of course, that is just my view from a medical standpoint; you are free to make your own decision.”

It’s almost surreal. Here he is, just barely coming to terms with the idea he’s going to be a father, and already there’s this looming threat that wants to rip it all away. He thinks about Olli, all alone, and he wouldn’t be that stupid, but he wants to go to him, right now, and hold him, and the child that is growing within in him, and just be together, to know both of them are safe.

Olli’s voice is rough when he calls him on his drive home, unable to go any longer without knowing how he is.

“How you feel?” he asks, feeling deja vu from just a few short weeks ago, when everything felt much simpler, and Olli laughs into the receiver, the same response.

“Like hell, pretty much. Everything hurts. It sucks.”

Geno doesn’t know how to bring it up without just saying it, but it seems such an odd thing to ask. _Do you know we could lose the baby?_ or _are you afraid?_ He doesn’t know if it’s bad luck, like when you don’t say _shut out_ when a goalie’s been a wall all night. It’s as if he says the word, the forces of fate will hear him.

Instead, he just kind of mumbles out “talk with Dr. Vyas today,” and Olli seems to understand what he’s getting at.

“Oh. About the baby?” Olli asks, and he can only make a noise of affirmation, unshed tears burning hot in his throat.

“I know, G,” Olli says, because he always just _knows_. “It’s really scary, but we just have to have hope it will be okay.”

He doesn’t understand how Olli remains so calm. He’s panicking inside, trying his best not to break down so he can at least see enough to drive the rest of the way home, and Olli is reassuring him.

“Want to see you,” he says, words pushed through the lump in his throat. “Want to be with you and baby right now, but they say not to. Made me think, I’m want this, you know? I’m want to be papa, want to have baby, and then they say, maybe baby not be okay. It’s not fair. You sick already, hurt shoulder, now they say baby not safe. It’s not fucking fair.”

“That’s probably true, but there’s not a lot of sense in overthinking it. It it what it is,” Olli says.

Geno knows Olli’s not being contrarian, that this is just his worldview about everything, but Geno’s irritated at his ability to brush it off. He wants some type of justice, an explanation of why everything that happened to Olli this season took place, for some force of nature to take accountability. Geno wants something to blame, but he knows, deep down, it’s only him. It’s shit about Olli’s shoulder, the tumor, and the mumps, but it was all pretty much unavoidable. The pregnancy is all him, something he could have stopped but didn’t, and he knows the guilt about everything else is pretty much all coming from that alone.

“Not understand how you not angry,” Geno says, half to himself.

“Because I would drive myself crazy if I didn’t just accept it for what it is and try to keep moving forward,” Olli replies, and Geno thinks about that for a while.

“I’m try to do this, too,” Geno announces, because it seems to working for Olli pretty well, and Olli laughs so hard Geno can hear he’s apparently hurt himself in the process.

“Let’s be real,” Olli says, still laughing, “Hell will freeze over before that happens.”

* * *

Nothing ever seems to settle.

Around his already loaded schedule, they have to decide when to hold a press conference, as well as how they’re going to present this to the public. In spare moments he doesn’t have, he spends his time trying to figure out how he can best bring up the topic of Olli moving in to his place and start getting ready for the baby. He asks Sid, lingering behind the group as they get off the bus and into the BB&T Center; Sid is immediately skeptical.

"You suddenly decided this just because he's having your baby?"

He shoots Sid a warning look, but Sid just stands up taller.

"I mean that. Can you imagine asking him to move in if he didn't happen to be carrying your child?"

“Yes, yes, of course,” he assures, taken aback, and Sid folds his arms over his chest. “I’m mean that! Act like I’m not always like him. We not fuck buddies, you know. Yes, baby is accident, but I’m- I’m like him, you know?”

Sid looks unconvinced, but he’s also got that look on his face, that one that means he’s starting to pity him. “Look, G, I know you feel this way, but does Olli? This is a huge step. I mean, I know in the short-term it’s better than a newborn being bounced from house to house but - this isn’t something you can take back, right? You can’t live together for four years just for the kid and then seperate again. If you’re going to do this - I just think you need to be sure this is the real thing.”

Geno feels uncertain and outraged, and it’s an awful mix. What Sid is saying really does make a good point, and he doesn’t want to be angry at him for that, but it feels oddly like Sid knows something he doesn’t, like he’s reading his relationship with Olli wrong. Their relationship hasn’t been easy, so why would Olli stick around just for a quick lay? They understand and appreciate each other on a deeper level, an emotional level. On one hand, he knows Olli was being sincere when he said he hoped out of everyone in the world, Geno would choose him, but he still hasn’t healed over the wound of Olli constantly, repeatedly hiding away things that he needed to know.

He’s not distracted enough to not get a goal, but they lose to the Panthers in the shootout anyway. They go to Tampa, and lose again. It begins a streak of losses on this road trip. They’re losing and he’s pissed and everything’s fucked. Olli calls him after they lose to Washington and shit hits the fan.

He’s just getting back to his hotel, bag dropped in the middle of the floor and body dropped into the middle of the bed when his phone vibrates in his pocket. He half expects it to be Sasha, or maybe Kuznetsov, heckling him to face them like a man and come have a drink, but feels his heart flutter when he sees Olli’s name. He’s got it so bad, so so bad he would feel his heart bloom as just the thought Olli cared enough to think about him for a moment, but he does. He really does.

“Hey?” Olli says, when he picks up but doesn’t say anything, and everything seems to melt away for a moment.

“Hi, Olli.”

“I’m kind of surprised you answered,” Olli says.

“Why?”

“Because I know you’re probably sitting in your hotel room alone right now, super pissed about the games and not scoring,” Olli says, and he’s simultaneously pleased Olli knows him that well, but slightly put off as well.

“Well,” he eventually says, trying to sound unaffected. “You right.”

“It’ll get better, G,” Olli soothes, “it’s just a bad stretch.”

He makes a non-committal noise in the back of his throat and fingers the corner of the pillowcase, feeling shy. He’s so bad at accepting consolation when it’s given, but Olli’s attempt holds special meaning in light of the conversation he had with Sid in Florida. He knew Olli cared, but it’s not the worst thing in the world to be reminded of that again.

“I can go if you want?” Olli asks, unsure.

“No, sorry - don’t. You right, I’m worry about games, but-” he hesitates, feeling foolish but compelled anyway. “Nice to talk to you. Wish you here with us.”

It’s a cop-out answer; what he should say is ‘ _I miss you_ ’ and ‘ _I wish you were here with me_ ’, but he wonders if it’s too much too fast. He’s still not sure if it’s something Olli wants to hear. But Olli called him, apparently just to make sure he’s okay, and his mind goes round and round. _Get over yourself and just ask_ , he lectures himself.

“I wish you were here with us, too,” Olli says, and Geno’s heart beats a million beats a second. He feels an overwhelming urge to be there, to kiss Olli, and hold him, and he’s never been more glad to have one more game before they head home for a few weeks.

“How you feel? Baby feel good?”

“Yeah. Actually, that’s why I called,” Olli says. “Went to the doctor and I’m mumps free, so I can be leave the house again, though someone’s going to have to drive me because of the fucking shoulder. Then I went to the OB-GYN and the baby is doing really well. They said I’m around 14 weeks now so we can tell people if we want. And- I have a bump. It’s really small, but if you’re looking for it you can definitely see it.”

Olli sounds so completely happy he finds himself smiling at the ceiling, just listening to him. There’s some sort of exhilaration coursing through his veins, a new type of excitement he’s never felt before.

“Olli, best news. Wish I’m there go see doctor but it’s good news. So happy you better and baby okay. I’m so worried for few weeks.”

Olli kind of trails off a “yeah…” and Geno waits for the other shoe to fall.

“Listen, since I’m kind of starting to look like I’m pregnant now, they want to get the press conference done as soon as possible.”

He understands the implication, but wants the explanation anyway.

“When?”

Olli hesitates. “Tomorrow.”

Olli doesn’t say anything while he lets out a string of curses, a mix of Russian and English, cursing the board and everyone in the entire organization.

“They not say I’m father,” Geno says, and he doesn’t need Olli to confirm or deny that for him.

“They thought it would be a distraction to-”

“Don’t give a fuck! Is my baby, too. Look bad, like- like cover up later on. I’m look like coward who not want say it’s my baby then have to later on when baby come. Or maybe media think you not know who father is, like you sleep with everyone and need to figure out. It’s bad plan, Olli.”

“Let’s just get through the season,” Olli tries, like he didn’t just scream at him at the top of his lungs, like he’s never affected by anything, _ever_. “And then we’ll discuss the next step.”

Something seems off about this. “Is your plan?” he asks, almost incredulous, and feels his control slipping when Olli tries to placate him with a soft “listen, G…”

“Moorehouse and Rutherford suggested it, and I agreed. I just didn’t want you to have to answer questions about us the rest of the season.”

“Didn’t ask you to protect me!” he counters, and Olli just _loses_ it.

“Well, I did. I’m so sorry I thought of you. I just imagined every media scrum you’d have for the next five months would be people subtly trying to ask you about why you put your dick in the team kid and why didn’t you think to use protection and don’t you think this is a distraction to your team? That if your fuck buddy hadn’t fucked up his shoulder he would have missed the season basically because you were too stupid to pull out or something. I didn’t want to wake up every morning and read speculation about you and me and what we did in bed and how long it went on for and what our relationship really is. I didn’t want every single time you have a bad night to get blamed on me, or the baby, or any of it, because hetero dads never get that shit written about them when their wives are pregnant but you know it would happen about us. You might hate it, but I did, I really did want to protect you. So fuck me.”

Geno doesn’t even get out “Olli” before the line goes dead. When he tries to call back, it won’t even ring. He rolls off the bed, feeling the urge to run, and suffices with punching the wall by the bathroom twice, feeling relieved both by the fact the wall didn’t give way and neither did the bones of his hands. He sleeps like shit, and wakes up grumpy to get on a plane for Jersey.

He gets two texts from Olli before the plane takes off. One says _doctor said mood swings at this point are normal, but i am sorry_ and the other says _the team will be told about the conference after the game but they won’t say it’s you, conference is tomorrow afternoon_. It’s just another slap in the face. They lose again, and he goes through the motions of undressing, skates off, jersey in the hamper, pads hung up to dry. Johnston has his words, seeming passive to the streak of losses, and points them in the direction of home, nearly three weeks of games on home ice, a chance to rebound from their funk. Everyone half-listens, getting undressed, when Jen peeks in and Johnston waves for her to come inside.

“I wanted to give everyone an update on Olli’s condition, for those of you who were unaware,” Jen starts, and now she has the attention of everyone in the room.

“As you may know, Olli’s rehabilitation of his shoulder has not being going well. He’ll have season-ending surgery in a few weeks.”

There are noises of disappointment around the room - everyone knows, even if they haven’t been through it personally, how much it sucks to have your season ended like this. They also know they’ll have to pick up the slack - Olli missing leaves a gap that will be hard to fill. Geno realizes his leg is shaking the whole bench as he bounces it nervously, and he clamps a hand on his knee, knowing what’s about to come but so uncertain how it will play out.

“However, there is some good news to report about Olli’s condition,” Jen continues, and the chatter dies down again. “Olli wanted to let you know that he is about three months pregnant, and the baby is due in July. The organization knew when signing him he was a carrier, though I’m sure no one expected a baby would come this early, probably even Olli himself. We will announce an update about both of his conditions tomorrow afternoon for the press. The organization is giving Olli our full support and we are super excited to welcome the newest member of the Penguins family.”

The last bit is said as a threat, as if anyone who dare says a bad word against Olli will be subject to Jen’s wrath. Jen leaves them in stunned silence, and it’s almost like no one knows where to look to find a solution to any of the questions she didn’t offer to answer. About a third of the team is looking blankly, another third is torn between Sid and Johnston, and a third is staring openly at him. If looks could kill, Jussi would have eviscerated him in an instant, and Jussi doesn’t even look away when he meets his eye, doesn’t even try to hide the fury on his face.

If Geno had to take a guess, he’d say Jussi was probably unaware Olli was pregnant until about a minute ago.

Beau finally says “wait, I don’t get it,” and everyone’s attention shifts to him for the moment, giving Geno the freedom to finish undressing and head off to the showers as everyone else in the room is still struggling to process what they just heard. He hears footsteps on the tile, waiting for everyone to digest a little and head in, but they reach him, whoever it is waiting for him to open his eyes as he finishes washing soap out of his hair.

It would be awkward enough that Jussi is apparently now hellbent on killing him, but he really doesn’t want to get jumped in the showers in Jersey of all places, and he’s too tired to respond when Jussi spits out “what the fuck were you thinking?” before Sutter is pulling him away, arm around his shoulder as he talks low in his ear. For the rest that assume, no one else seems moved to confront him, at least not tonight. He gets on the bus and settles in the back of the plane, just happy the flight is short - he wants to be at home.

Sid comes back around thirty minutes before they land. He doesn’t say anything, just steps over him to sit at the window seat, which Geno knows he hates, and they sit in a silence for a few minutes before Sid finally gathers his thoughts.

“I’m sorry, I think.”

He has to laugh, because only Sid would say something exactly like that.

“No, I mean- stop laughing,” Sid says, pushing at him. “I do think we’re avoiding a lot of bad press by not coming out and saying you’re the father, but I know no one actually asked your opinion. Someday, it’s going to come out anyway, and it might be better to do it now. So I’m sorry, because I know this means a lot to you.”

Geno doesn’t think about responding, but it’s nice to hear that maybe his feelings are valid, and that he doesn’t feel slighted for nothing. But when he thinks about it for a moment, he can’t help but need to know.

“Are you mad at me? About baby?”

It’s asked honestly, not as a loaded question, and Sid thinks about it for a moment.

“’To be honest, everything about this is kind of got fucked up, so it’s really on both of you. I think I’d be mad if it weren’t for the shoulder injury keeping Olli out anyway, but, no, I’m not. No one’s going to pretend that this was the right time, but I think both of you are in the right positions to be good parents. Really, I’m just happy for you, because you both seem excited.”

Geno lets Sid see his completely bemused look, and Sid looks slightly embarrassed. “Not seem so happy whole time until now.”

“Yes, I am happy for you. I’m just saying, let’s not pretend that Olli being 20 and having a baby was everyone’s Plan A here. I know I was probably wrong to get involved so much, but this was exactly what I hoped wouldn’t happen. It did, though, and there’s no changing it, so everyone might as well make the best out of it.”

At this point, he’ll take Sid being admonishing and congratulatory at the same time, so long as someone is on his side.

Geno doesn’t call Olli when they get back to Pittsburgh, pushing away the urge to see him, just to make sure he’s okay. He needs the time to think about everything, and goes home alone, so tired he falls asleep without even getting out of his travel clothes.

He watches the press conference on his computer at home, trying not to be angry and failing miserably. Olli looks impassive, a large sweater hiding any evidence of the baby, and they only let three reporters ask questions before Olli is led out of the room. PR had tried to highlight the shoulder surgery as the main point here, but the reporters has only asked questions about the pregnancy, albeit respectfully. Geno avoids reading the news at all costs, but from the text he gets from Seryozha, the controversy mostly seems to be about Olli’s undeclared status and whatever else the organization might be hiding, not necessarily the pregnancy itself; it reeks of anti-carrier sentiment.

He’s not sure how to break the silence between them, but Olli manages to be the bigger person for him, texting him the morning of New Year’s Eve and asking for a ride to Kuni’s party. Geno recognizes Olli request for the olive branch it is, and texts back, asking if it’s okay if he comes by a little early. Olli says to come over whenever, and he realizes in his nervousness he leaves way too early, driving around aimlessly to kill time.

He stops into HomeGoods, because it’s on the way, and he remembers last time he was there, they had a baby section, tucked between the gardening stuff and the office organization aisle. It’s only 30 minutes before the store closes, and he’s able to walk around in relative anonymity, everyone probably at home getting ready for the night.

He has no idea what he’s looking for, only that he’ll know it when he sees it. There’s a exorbitant amount of blue and pink themed everythings, picture frames that say _Daddy’s Little Baseball Player_ and bibs that say _Mommy’s Beautiful Ballerina_ , and he feels uncomfortable at the very idea, and knows without any doubt Olli would hate shit like that. There’s a silver box set, for the first haircut and other such momentos, but he’s still not sure about it.

He moves down the aisle, passing sippy cups and receiving blankets, when something makes him pause. There’s an entire shelf of faceless figurines, all different poses of moms and dads and babies, all with different hair and skin colors. Some are mom and dad, looking down into a cradle; others are mom, cradling baby to her chest, and dad, cradling mom to his own. There’s a distinct lack of even a single carrier, and it surprisingly stings more than he would have expected.

He finally picks a small owl, soft and gray, because it seems safe, and he mentally high-fives himself when he names it Owli in his head. He leaves the baby section, headed toward the cash registers, when he sees it.

Knocked on its side, red sticker slapped on carelessly, is a single figurine, thrown on the clearance display at the end of the aisle. There’s a scratch across the back, paint gone, but it’s a carrier and his partner, one dark head and one light bent over the child they both hold, together. He tucks it under his arm, and goes to pay.

Olli meets him in the parking garage to let him upstairs. Olli looks curiously at the bag in his hand, but doesn’t comment. There’s still a palpable tension between them, and Geno’s just hoping the gifts might help him thaw the ice a little. Geno doesn’t waste time; Olli smiles fondly at the owl, at least until he mentions the Owli thing, putting it aside before giving him an exasperated look.

“Thank you. It’s cute. But don’t ever call it Owli again or I’ll fucking kill you.”

Geno hesitates, suddenly unsure of what he’s about to. Olli looks at the bag as Geno twists it in his hands, making it crinkle. Olli looks back at him, patient, and he stammers out an explanation. “I’m see this and think- I’m know why you decide about conference. I’m think about what you say, and understand. But I’m want to say, I’m also papa of this baby. I’m not one have baby so some things I’m trust you, but I’m want you to remember. For long time now, it’s us, everyday.”

Olli takes the figurine when he hands it over, looking it at for a while without saying anything. Once again, Geno’s having trouble reading how Olli’s feeling, but he doesn’t miss the subtle shake of Olli’s shoulders, the quiet sniffle and the quick brush of knuckles across one eye. He sits down beside Olli, pulling him close, and presses his cheek against the crown of Olli’s head, feeling him trying to even out his breath.

“Okay?” he asks, and Olli laughs a little.

“Yeah, I just got this image of the two of us like this in a few months and it kind of hit me. But everything’s been making me cry this week. I cried at a toilet paper commercial with the puppies yesterday. It’s not even sad.”

Geno decides it’s probably in better taste to not point out it’s also gone the other way recently, and that he might have been disemboweled if he and Olli had had the conversation about the conference in person, instead of over the phone.

“I’m not sorry about going ahead with the conference,” Olli says, as if reading his mind. “I know you feel left out, and I understand that. But I’m not going to apologize for wanting to protect you. After the season, I’ll go out and do it again, I’ll say it was my idea, but I won’t let you throw yourself out there to be picked apart.”

It still rubs raw some part of his pride, as if Olli thinks he can’t handle stupid, invasive questions from stupid, invasive reporters, but somewhere between finding out and right now, he’s kind of realized how important it is for Olli to feel like he’s keeping him safe. He doesn’t want to buy too much into primordial mating theories, but he remembers carriers are supposedly incredibly territorial and protective of their mates during pregnancy, and if going with it for now helps Olli feels safe, he’ll try to swallow at least some of his pride.

But it’s also a two-way street.

Geno helps Olli into his button down and jacket, smiling a little when his hand presses against the bump, and Olli slips on some loafers while he gets his own oxfords laced up. Geno gets on Olli’s beanie when he remembers the owl and steps back into the living room to grab it.

“You’re bringing that with us?” Olli asks.

“Yeah, put it in baby room at house,” Geno explains, and Olli looks at him strangely.

“Why not just leave it for the nursery here?”

Sid’s voice seems to float across Geno’s mind for a moment, but he slams that door shut because, frankly, that’s the last thing he needs right now. There are some things he’s willing to compromise on, or at least stay quiet about, but this is not one of them.

“Why need baby room here?” he asks.

Olli looks at him obviously. “Because this is where I live.”

There’s no way to ask it without just coming out and asking it, so he says, “you not move in with me?”

“Oh, Geno-,” Olli says, reeling like he’s caught off guard. “I don’t know, yet. I haven’t thought about it.”

“How?”

Geno can feel himself getting really, really angry, and he shouldn’t do this right now, when they’re one foot out of the door, but he can’t stop.

“What do you mean, _how_?” Olli asks.

“How you not think about move? Not have to be today but baby here soon, Olli. Why you stay here? Baby sleep Monday here, Tuesday my house, Wednesday here, like that? Not good for baby.”

Olli seems to be the very definition of the word cornered, and rapidly becoming unnerved by it. “I mean, it happens. We’d just have to figure out a schedule of when they’d be here and there, I guess.”

“You not want to be with me?” It’s what Geno’s hearing in the spaces between Olli’s words. A subtle denial, a gentle refusal to be together.

“I do, it’s just-”

“Just what?”

“It’s not something I can take back. I can’t move in now and move out in a year because I wasn’t ready and then move in again later. Moving in is really…permanent. I can’t think about forever, yet.”

“Forever now. Forever here already. I say earlier, we us now. For a long time.”

There’s not much sense browbeating Olli into agreeing right here to move in, but he doesn’t understand Olli’s logic either.

“Geno,” Olli starts, taking a quivering breath that Geno can see is meant to push back unshed tears. “I like you a lot. More than like. But you’re the first person in my life I’ve ever had feelings for for more than like, two months. If I weren’t pregnant, this probably wouldn’t even be a discussion for another year or two, minimum. I care about you a lot, and I don’t want us to force ourselves together because of a baby, but it should be because of how we feel about each other. I don’t want to ruin this.”

Geno manages an “okay”, but he feels anything but. He helps Olli out to his car without a word, and puts on the music a little loud as they drive out to Kuni’s house. The last place he wants to be right now is at a party, but Olli seems unaffected once again, looking straight ahead as if nothing happened. He’s mad and embarrassed at what feels like rejection, and it makes him madder. He drops Olli off at the door, making sure he gets in, and goes to park to car, sitting alone for ten minutes until he feels like he’ll be able to go in and socialize somewhat normally.

Geno doesn’t look for him. He throws himself into a round of flip cup, one extended debate with Sutter about how much how bad the cold is, loudly proclaiming he can’t wait to get back to Miami when he’s free for everyone in earshot to hear, and makes his way back to the living room where someone has on the Thunder-Suns game as it heads to overtime. Olli’s squished between Cath and Vero on the couch, and Geno listens with one ear to their conversation as Sutter talks to him about Steve Nash, the Canadian second-coming of Christ himself.

“I have an appointment next week,” Geno hears Olli tell Vero, and he watches them out of the corner of his eye. Vero smiles excitedly, looking at Olli’s bump, just pushing at his sweater.

“An ultrasound, yes? They’ll tell you the baby’s gender then.”

“Oh, I’m not going to find out,” Olli explains. “I want to be surprised, I think. I don’t want to have any assumptions about them before they’re born. The first time I see them- I want it to really be like we’re meeting for the first time. I know everyone else wants to know before, but I just don’t, I guess.”

Vero and Catherine seemed stunned for a moment, and Vero takes Olli’s hand. “That’s incredibly thoughtful and beautiful, Olli. I know you’re going to be a wonderful father.”

Geno doesn’t even start to wonder if Olli was going to ask his opinion about this, but Olli’s perspective has already convinced him. Sutter’s still talking his ear off, and does for the better part of thirty minutes, but he’s too stunned by how amazing Olli is sometimes to really follow what he’s saying. Even after Olli gets up and leaves the room, he still sits on the couch, wondering if he’ll be half as good of a parent as Olli seems like he’s going to be.

Around ten minutes before midnight, the crowd starts heading toward the patio. Maureen’s bouncing Aubrey on her shoulder, trying and failing to calm her down while also handing out sparklers to the people heading outside, and Geno steps behind her, hand on Aubrey’s back. 

“I take her?” he asks, and Maureen looks at him fondly, handing her over and patting his cheek.

“It’d be good for you to get some practice.”

Aubrey relaxes when the noise dies down inside the house, still whining, but now resting her head against his shoulder, curling her fingers into his sweater. He rocks from side to side, speaking to her in low Russian, the same phrases his mother used to say to him, and her eyes begin to droop, staying closed longer each time she blinks.

Geno watches the crowd through the glass doors, a hundred little stars of light across the deck and yard as the people light sparkler to sparkler, and he watches Olli, face lit up with joy as his sparkler burns. Olli looks around, turning almost in a full circle, and Geno realizes Olli’s looking for him. It gives him hope that, despite everything, Olli does want him.

He moves over, trying to get into Olli’s direct line of vision, and finally Olli sees him. The crowd yells “2,1, Happy New Year!” and the first fireworks explode overhead, but Olli’s the only one in the crowd not looking up at them. Geno places a gentle kiss on Aubrey’s forehead, gentle enough to not disturb her as she slips into sleep, and Olli watches them, not looking away, barely blinking.

Geno helps Maureen tuck her into her crib as the party come to and end, and Olli waits downstairs for him. The ride back into the city is quiet, the radio not even on, and Geno pulls up to the curb in front of Olli’s apartment half-expecting Olli to just get out without saying a word. Instead, Olli surprises him when he slides their fingers together, waiting for Geno to turn to him.

“I’ll think about moving. I’m not saying it’s a promise, but I will think about it.”

He doesn’t answer, because he knows Olli’s not asking for a response. Olli leans across the center console, just far enough away to let him pull back, but he doesn’t. Their kiss is soft, sweet, and over before he can even think about it.

“I guess this is the year our life begins again, right?” Olli muses, before closing the door.

* * *

Rumors were going to spread anyway, and it doesn’t take much of a stretch of imagination for most of the team to put two and two together.

Outside of the circle of people he’s closest with, no one seems willing to bring it up with him, something he’s fine with; if the organization wants to keep the team from being distracted, he’s fine with keeping mum with people he’s just teammates with. One awkward conversation with Mario, in which Mario had maybe suggested he married Nathalie because Lauren was already a few months old and he felt like it was the _right_ _thing_ to do, had been enough for Geno to want to avoid the topic with almost anyone. Luckily, Jussi has stopped openly shooting daggers at him from across the room at any given moment, and Geno doesn’t even want to know the details of the conversation between him and Olli that must have taken place. 

So the team seems to get used to the idea, whether they talk about it or not, and whatever opinions are generally kept to themselves. For the most part.

Naturally, the on-ice chirps start almost immediately after the news breaks; Geno’s just relieved most of it seems centered on Olli’s irresponsibility (in the form of calling Olli a slut, a whore, or variations thereof, but still), and not so much of Olli being a carrier in itself. The teams with publicly out carriers are certainly kinder, and even Sasha feels charitable enough to get involved, much to Geno’s chagrin.

 _What’s the carrier’s number?_ , Sasha texts him a few days after the news breaks, and he grits his teeth. Grammatically, it’s normal to call a carrier by the title in Russian, but his own involvement makes something inside him resist, correcting _the carrier_ as Olli.

 _why do you want to know_?, he texts back, and Sasha sends him a laughing emoji.

 _As if I’m interested. Wilson wants to speak to him. He’s been here before and wants to be a friend_.

The thought is sincere, but Geno will be damned if he’s going to let Tom Wilson of all people routinely chat up Olli, especially while Olli’s carrying his child. Knowing Sasha won’t rest until he gets what he wants, he gives him a fake number and hopes Wilson is too stupid to realizes what’s happened, and tries not to overly think about the protective feelings stirred up by the image of Tom being sweet to Olli.

There are certainly people who don’t like it. He avoids looking at replies on Twitter and Instagram, but he knows it’s out there. Flips the channel when a caller tells Mark Madden he’s not sure if this is the right line of work for Olli if he’s not going to take it seriously. Tunes out the fans in other cities when he picks up the first hints of the jeers. It’s nothing he hasn’t done before, ignoring the shit said about him, about Sid, about the whole team.

But he can’t ignore it at practice.

Maybe it’s just a rough day for everyone. It’s the second day of the New Year, and maybe everyone’s still a little tired, a little hungover. It’s the first game of the year, and they’re coming off a streak of losses anyway. It should be a time to be positive and look forward, as Olli always says. Until Adams starts running his mouth.

They’ve been teammates for a long time, and just that. Geno hasn’t trusted him since Adams made a stand to replace Sid as captain when he was out with his concussions issues, much less for being Dan’s crony and informant. Everyone knows he’s done after this year, and Kuni at some point had made him drunkenly promise to be good and let Adams ride out without incident.

Which he _had_ fully intended to do.

In retrospect, as childish as it sounded, it wasn’t his fault, at all. He slashes Adams at morning skate, perhaps avoidably but definitely not on purpose, and is about to apologize, when Adams mumbles something under his breath, just loud enough for him to hear.

“What you say?” he asks, skating close, and Adams sneers.

“I said, you’re a motherfucker. Or maybe I should say fatherfucker, in this case. What do you think Olli would prefer?”

It’s so pointless getting mad at something as stupid as this, but his fists move faster than his patience, and he grabs Adams sweater, getting in a few solid punches before his own jersey gets yanked over his head. The guys break them up, and he gets some sort of fulfillment, seeing Adams rushing off the ice, towel against his face to stop the bleeding. The rest of the team gives him a wide berth for the remainder of practice, though Flower does cackle especially hard every time he misses a shot, poke checks tripping up his feet whenever he gets too close.

Olli’s in the lounge when he arrives to get ready for the game, a pleasant surprise. He’s hanging around with Pouliot, talking defense about Tampa Bay’s forwards, but Geno can feel Olli watching him as he gets his plate of pasta. Olli eventually comes over to say hi, not just to him, but the table of Flower and Tanger to, and Geno watches the material of Olli’s t-shirt shift across the small swell of his bump as he shifts from one foot to another. Olli heads on to greet someone else, Geno just stopping himself from watching him go, and Flower’s French is so diabolical sounding, Geno can almost guess what’s being said when Tanger doubles over laughing before shooting something back. They both scatter when Sid clears his throat from a few chairs down, and Geno slides down his way.

“They not nice?” he asks jokingly, partially because he never expects Flower to be nice when there’s a joke to be made at someone else’s expense, and Sid chews on his chicken breast, translating to himself before smiling.

“Flower basically said, I wasn’t this bad when Vero was pregnant the first time, and then Tanger said, no, you were even worse.”

Geno feels himself get hot, but he’s kind of pleased with himself, too. He’ll take Flower’s chirp as what it really is - an appreciation of his changing attitude at the prospect of fatherhood; the joining of a fraternity of sorts.

Olli’s in the room as they get ready to head out, and Geno feels like his skin’s too tight just watching him. Despite all the shit that’s gone on in the last few months, including the bum arm that’s pinned to Olli’s side, Olli looks positively radiant, like he’s starting to glow, and some instinctual part of his biology wants to go wrap around him, to let everyone know that Olli belongs to him. Olli’s in the line-up of scratches and other injured players that are cheering them on the way out, and he hears Sid choke behind them when Olli taps on his helmet, saying “this time, try to punch someone on the _other_ team, not our own.”

He gets a goal and an assist in a blow-out win over Tampa, and feels like everything might just be okay.

Olli drops into the stall next to him after he’s done with his early morning skate the second week of January. There are sideways glances from a few guys, but it’s basically old news now. He’s high-colored, red splotches plastered from chin to forehead, and Geno can tell he’s feeling jittery. Olli listens to the conversation around the room as he pulls on his jersey, and finally sighs when the guys start to head out.

“Surgery’s next week,” is all he says, and Geno feels his stomach drop. Olli’s season was over anyway, but surgery still means pain, rehab, and an unanswerable question of “did it work?” Olli is obviously not happy about the circumstances.

“I’m sorry, Olli,” he says, not sure what to do before finally putting one hand on Olli’s knee, and Olli doesn’t look at him, staring across the room to where Pouliot has filled in his stall. For a moment, Geno’s ready for Olli to dissolve into tears, but as he watches Olli’s jaw work, eyes staring at the space, he realizes Olli’s angry.

He’d prefer the tears, honestly.

“I have an ultrasound next week, on the 14th. It’s a Wednesday. They wanted to do surgery that day, and want me to cancel it so they can get me in early for the procedure, but I told them I wouldn’t do it. So I’m waiting to see if they’ll move the surgery later that day or not. But I’m not missing the appointment.”

“Good you stand up,” Geno says, and Olli looks surprised at his support, like maybe he thought he was being unreasonable. “I go with you. Doctor can do surgery when you ready.”

Olli seems to relax a little at that. “I’m glad you’re coming with me,” he says, and leans over into Geno, all the fight going out of him. Geno tucks his chin over the crown of Olli’s head, not really sure where Olli’s emotions are taking him at the moment, but just hoping he’s doing the right thing.

“It’s the first ultrasound. So we’ll be able to see the baby and everything. And they’ll tell us if, you know, anything’s not normal.” Olli tenses up when he says it, and Geno worries if something’s gone wrong.

“Why you say this, Olli?” he asks, prodding at Olli’s side when he doesn’t immediately answer.

“It’s just- everything else has gone so fucking wrong this entire season, I’m almost waiting for something to happen to the baby. When I went to the first appointment, they told me I might be high-risk, just because of the cancer threat and the medication I’m on for the hormone replacement and everything, so now I have to go to high-risk specialists. It just feels like something’s going to fuck up, again.”

It’s not a usual pessimism he sees from Olli, and that’s the most worrying part of it all. He does get where Olli is coming from though, and can understand why Olli is worried; medically, the last year has been a minefield of medical disaster after medical disaster, and this would be the biggest disaster of all, if things go south.

“What you always say?” he asks Olli, and Olli looks up at him. “Gotta look forward. Beat cancer. Beat mumps. Baby still growing, still okay. If something bad, you find way to solve it. Not worry before it happen.”

Olli rolls his eyes, but he’s still smiling when he leaves, and Geno starts to feel like things are almost normal again. He still misses Olli, every day, but at least they’re making their way back slowly into something that works for them both.

They’re on the road and back again before Olli has his appointments. Geno shows up at Olli’s apartment at 7 am with a bag for the night and a pit in his stomach. Olli’s ultrasound is early, the first appointment of the day, and from there he’ll be taken directly upstairs to be admitted for surgery. Johnston had given him permission to skip practice today and tomorrow, and Nathalie and Mario had made him promise to call them if either he or Olli needed anything, at any time.

The first appointment seems to make both of them forget about the lingering second. Olli missed having a sonogram, between their schedule, shoulder appointments, and the mumps, and the technician spends extra time looking over the baby, ensuring the baby’s size and gestation match. The baby is tiny, only half the size of his finger, but the technician promises it’s normal and healthy. The baby seems to have at least most of its’ fingers and toes, a heart and a spine and two legs forming, and Geno wipes tears away when they listen to the heartbeat, loud and fast. He’s so in awe, he can’t even speak, but Olli asks a million questions, what each thing means, what’s normal for the stage of the pregnancy, what he should be looking out for; it’s the most Geno’s heard him speak to someone new, probably ever.

“Now, I think I might be able to tell what you’re having, if you’d like to know…” the technician says, moving the doppler over the same spot as if looking, and Olli looks away quickly. Geno’s dying to know, but he knows once he finds out, there’s no way he could keep it from Olli for another almost six months. The technician and Olli are both looking up at him, waiting for an answer, and looks at Olli’s face. He knows Olli wouldn’t hold it against him, if he wanted to know, but he remembers what Olli had said to Vero at the party. Of how much it meant to him, to know this baby with any presumptions, or biases.

“No,” he tells her. “Not want to know yet.”

Overall, everything seems positive going into the next appointment. They head up to the orthopedic surgery division, and Olli seems surprised at the doctors waiting for them. Dr. Vyas is sitting with Dr. Baratz, the same surgeon who had done some of his ACL surgery years ago, along with a woman he’s never seen before.

Olli says something in Finnish to her with a smile, and she replies curtly, one side of her mouth curling up as Olli turns pink. Not that he blames him, but of course Olli would find probably the one Finnish doctor in all of Pittsburgh. Geno reads her doctor’s coat - under Dr. Parviainen, it says Department of Obstetrics and Gynecology. It all seems a little fortuitous. He idly hopes she’s here as a medical translator in case there’s something Olli really doesn’t understand, but he’s not exactly sure why you’d bring a baby doctor to a surgery.

Olli apparently isn’t sure either, because when Dr. Vyas says she’s here to explain everything before Olli signs his waiver for surgery, Olli seems confused.

“Explain what?” Geno asks, for the both of them, and Dr. Vyas lets Dr. Parviainen explain.

“There are risks,” she says, “and there would be with any surgery, pregnant or not. The surgery shouldn’t have any major complications, and the anesthesia should be fine for both Olli and the fetus, however, if any complications do arise, they do risk affecting the health of both Olli and baby. This would most likely lead to a potential miscarriage, or complications due to lack of oxygen going to the fetus.”

“What are the odds something goes wrong?” Olli asks.

Dr. Baratz answers, “low. You’ve had this surgery before with no complications. This is just precautionary. Something to think about, if you will.”

Geno isn’t sure if they’re trying to convince Olli to decline surgery or not. “Olli had surgery in November, why big deal now?” he asks, not sure why this has suddenly become an issue. All three doctors hesitate to answer him; it’s not reassuring, in the slightest.

“Olli’s thyroid surgery was less invasive and over much quicker than this will be,” Dr. Vyas offers. “It was also medically necessary.”

And there it is.

“Need surgery to feel better, yes?” Geno asks, and the doctors agree. “But maybe not have surgery now?”

“There is a potential that the surgery could be put off until after the pregnancy is over, to avoid extra complications,” Dr. Parviainen says, and he can almost see Olli recoil next to him.

“No,” Olli says, voice flat.

“The decision is yours,” Dr. Vyas reassures, before Olli can get more upset. “It’s just an option that is available to you. We would still work on rehabbing the shoulder as best as possible, and provide pain management until surgery could be rescheduled.”

“How easy is it to hold a baby with one arm?” Olli asks, almost curiously more than anything, and no on answers him. “I’d like the sign the forms and get this over with, please.”

In the elevator up to what will be Olli’s recovery room, Olli slumps over, covering his face with one hand. Geno puts one tentative hand on Olli’s good shoulder, but Olli brushes him off, and he lets it drop. He understands exactly why Olli would want to go ahead with surgery, for multiple reasons, but he also can’t stop replaying the risks over in his head. It was Olli’s decision to make; he just doesn’t know if he agrees with it.

“I have to do it now,” Olli says, sounding resigned. “If I don’t start recovering until July, I’m never coming back.”

No matter what, Olli’s going to be recovering in July anyway, though Geno reckons it probably won’t take six months to come back from having a baby. Then again, he doesn’t really know anything about babies or pregnancy, and it also totally could.

The easier route to take is to say, “city and team wait for Sid, over whole year. Wait for me, a lot. Happen before, happen now, it’s okay.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not exactly you or Sid, am I?” Olli says sarcastically, and the doors ping open.

Olli doesn’t seem to be in the mood to talk as he gets settled into his room. Surgery was supposed to begin at 12, but not unlike flights or train departures, delays happen, and Olli lays down to sleep after the nurses let him know it will be no earlier than 2. Geno closes the curtains and tries to tuck himself on the guest couch, to little success. He tosses and turns, quite precariously, for twenty minutes, before Olli finally sighs and sits up, staring at him in the dark.

“Just come lay with me. I’m never going to sleep with all the noise you’re making.”

The fit is tight, hospital beds not exactly designed for two hockey players well over six feet to share, but Geno can feel some tension go out of Olli went he snuggles up into him and falls asleep soon after. It’s been weeks since they’ve done this, well over a month now, and Geno takes it for what it is. Face to face, he can feel the slight swell of Olli’s bump pressing into him; it hadn’t been so noticeable this morning, with Olli lying down, but Geno can feel it now, so acquainted with Olli’s body he can’t help but notice the tiny changes taking place. He places a hand on Olli’s hip, slightly softer than before, and Olli murmurs softly.

Geno’s woken abruptly to the sound of gagging, and wakes up to Olli spitting into a bowl, a nurse at his side.

“I know, no point in calling it morning sickness when it happens all day,” she’s saying sympathetically, and helps Olli clean up.

“It’s been better in the last two weeks,” Olli says, “it’s just really bad now because I haven’t eaten since last night.”

She tells Olli they’ll be ready for him in about 30 minutes, and Olli falls back down next to him, realizing he’s awake.

“Sorry about that.”

“Baby make you sick?” Geno asks, shocked; Olli never gave him any clues he wasn’t anything sort of positively radiant and glowing.

“Oh man,” Olli laughs. “Why do you think I kept getting up so early at your place for a few weeks? If I could get up and eat some toast or crackers and have a cup of hot tea, I could usually avoid most of the major puking. I thought you’d notice I drank like half of your good tea.”

He _had_ noticed, he just hadn’t realized, even in retrospect.

“It’s bad?” he asks, almost not wanting to know, but feeling compelled that if Olli is going through it, he should at least be aware.

“Ehh,” Olli makes a face, as close to a complaint as he’ll give. “The morning sickness, you mean?”

“No,” he says. “Being pregnant.”

Olli laughs.

“It’s not my favorite thing ever, to be honest.”

Olli seems calm as the nurses come to get him ready, though with so much riding on it, Geno knows he’s not really okay. He’s being overly cheerful with the nurses, enthusiastically agreeing with instructions they give him, and Geno’s feels oddly glad he’s not the only person Olli tries to downplay his feelings with.

Dr. Vyas comes back a few hours after they take Olli to let him know surgery went well, with no complications. Dr. Parviainen had done another ultrasound directly post-op, and had confirmed the baby was not under any stress, and that heart rate and blood flow had seemed unaffected. For the first time in weeks, Geno feels like he can breathe.

Olli’s back around an hour later, still out of it. He starts coming back to himself as the drugs wear off, but the pain obviously seeps through the painkillers they’re giving him. Geno’s never been in the position to really care for anyone before, more of the patient himself, and it takes about five minutes of watching Olli suffer before he’s finding a nurse.

He understands when she tells him that she can’t give Olli a higher dose of painkillers with risking serious complications to the baby, and isn’t surprised when she tells him Olli and Dr. Vyas agreed on a pain management plan with the help of the OB-GYNs in the Department of Labor and Delivery. Only someone as headstrong and stubborn as Olli would go through a surgery knowing recovery would be exponentially worse, simply for the sake of their child. Geno is simultaneously smitten and aggravated with him.

Olli gets to go home the next day, looking rough but without major complaint. They show Olli how to put on his sling tight enough to avoid movement, and hand him a date for his first PT appointment.

Geno goes straight from Olli’s apartment back to Cranberry for morning skate. He’s in no mood to leave Olli alone, but knows his place is with the team now. Olli thanks him for everything and pushes him out of the door, telling him he’ll kept him updated, but he’s basically going to be watching TV and suffering, and there’s nothing else for Geno to do at the moment, especially when Nathalie shows up to make breakfast and get Olli settled.

Geno arrives on his schedule, 20 minutes late to practice as is routine, and the rest of the room is ready for skate when he stumbles in. The conversation kind of dies away, everyone turned to look at him, and Downie yells from across the room, “hey, G, how’s Olli?”

Everyone’s waiting for him to answer, and he’s not going to disappoint.

“He’s okay. Everyone okay.”

There’s a cheer in the room before everyone heads out to the ice.

* * *

Olli moves in without much pomp and circumstance. His brings his clothes and lingering hesitation, and shows up on a late afternoon in early February, snow dripping off his toque as he stands in the foyer, looking nothing if not lost. The tentative agreement of the living arrangements had come with the understanding Olli's downtown apartment would remain for the time being, in the case Olli wanted to leave and return to it, at any time. Geno had been surprised at the sudden decision, but Sid had been informed by Nathalie that the loneliness was getting to him - unable to practice, his social interaction had been limited to when the team was in town, and their extended road trip had left a void.

Geno feels it’s best not to push the topic, because Olli’s here, and that all that matters. He can understand how overwhelming it must be from Olli's position, to be thrown into something he feels is almost out of his control, and he tries to be as gentle as possible when he shows Olli upstairs; it’s not like he doesn’t know the house almost inside out and backwards, but he’s no longer a guest, if he ever were. He helps Olli get off his boots, and leads him upstairs, through a series of guest rooms, leaving off providing commentary so that Olli can make his own decision.  
  
The first room he shows is the largest; it has a wide tub in the bathroom, and big windows overlooking the backyard. Olli looks inside for a moment, turning on his heel to take a 360 degree look around, before coming back to the door, waiting to be led on.   
  
"You sure you don't want?" he asks, surprised. Olli looks over his shoulder for a moment, nodding his head toward the bed when he turns back.

"Your parents' stuff is still on the nightstand. I don't want to take the room they stay in."  
  
Geno feels heat rise into his cheeks at the insinuation, but Olli doesn't seem to think anything of the fact he tried to pawn off his mother's favorite room without second thought. He skips over the next room, meaning to come back to it later, and shows Olli two more before he makes a decision. It's the smallest room, tucked in the corner of the house with windows overlooking the driveway and the side yard. Olli looks left to right when he steps in, then drops his bag on the bed. Geno’s not exactly surprised at Olli being unassuming, but he asks anyway.  
  
"You want smallest room?"  
  
Olli shrugs. "It has a desk. It's easier to use when I skype with my family. Hard to put my laptop on my lap because of my arm. Less to clean, anyway."   
  
As they head back down down the hall, Geno wonders if Olli will be more of a presence or a apparition around the house. He knows Olli is putting distance between them to help ease the transition and change, but he selfishly hopes Olli doesn’t hide away from him; it’d be too much to bear, in his own house.

Their house, he reminds himself. Even with Olli’s apartment still being a thing, this is their home now, as a family. Geno stops in front of a set of French doors, and waits for Olli. “I think this would be baby’s room,” he says, almost like a question, and much to his heart’s delight, Olli seems genuinely interested in looking inside.

It had been a trophy room, of sorts, but Geno had already mostly cleared everything out in preparation. Centered directly in the middle of the house, the windows look out right down the middle of the green in the backyard, room airy and light. Because he couldn’t help himself, he had already bought a linen gray rocker, placed by one of the windows. Owli’s tucked into the corner of it, and Olli picks it up, smiling a little to himself.

“I’ll be honest, this isn’t what I imagined you had in mind,” Olli muses.

He’s slightly offended, but rolls with it anyway. “I have big plans for room, put big mural of Russian flag on wall above crib so baby sees it every morning. Pictures of Putin and Dobrynya Nikitich on shelf, only best examples for baby.”

Olli looks thoughtful for a moment. “I think I’d rather die,” he says, evenly, but there’s something else in his voice, too.

“Baby is half-Russian, half me, I get fifty percent of room to decorate how I’m want it,” Geno teases.

“I think,” Olli says, sounding serious, “this baby is going to be mostly American, whether you like it or not.”

They’ve never discussed the what ifs, of when the world finally finds out he’s the other father. He’s almost forgotten, quite willfully, that it will be a problem back home. Not just a problem, but a catastrophe. One of their greatest hockey stars of the entire history of the sport, a defiler of the values of family purity. He can’t even let himself think of the future, or lack thereof, where he won’t be able to walk down the streets of Magnitogorsk with his child, to show them where their father grew up.

When he had told his parents, his mother had quite pragmatically said, after the initial shock had worn off, “let’s sell the Moscow townhouse. I will call the realtor tomorrow.” He hadn’t seen the reason for it, or the need for haste, but she had gone on to explain, “you don’t know the next time you will even be in the country. Surely you’re not going to leave Olli so close to his due date, after the playoffs are finished. Babies come early, Zhenya, many times. Let’s sell it before the news breaks and you’re stuck with an apartment you can’t even stay in.”

When he comes back to himself, Olli is sitting in the rocker, watching him. “Did you want to have baby in Finland?” he asks, the situation completely different in everything except the fact they’re both so far from home right now, and Olli shrugs a little.

“Kind of. I mean, like, in a different situation that is. When I had thought about it, for in the future, that had been my plan. But now, not really.”

“What changed it?” Geno asks. Olli opens his hands wide, as if searching for an answer.

“You did, G.”

Olli goes to get settled in his room, and Geno sits in the empty nursery, feeling raw, but not completely in a bad way. Because he opened the door to thoughts of Russia, it sinks in his veins that he truly does not know the next time he’ll be home again. But another part of him reminds him this is his home, too, not just his, but his child’s, and together, between them, his and Olli’s. Olli hadn’t promised anything, not out loud, but his actions speak louder than words. Olli could have flown back home after his season ended, been at home with his family and amongst his people, but he had chosen to stay, without hesitation, for Geno’s sake. Had chosen to move into this house, to bring this new life into the world together with him.

Despite the darkness swirling inside his heart, Geno feels completely hopeful.

Olli’s door is cracked open, but Geno knocks anyway. Olli toes it open, a stack of folded shirts balanced on his good arm. The room already looks a bit homier, like someone lives in it. Even though Geno knows Olli knows where to find him, he still wants to assure himself Olli will ask for help.

"If you need me, you come? Anytime," he says.

What Geno wants to say is completely different, and seemingly impossible. There's still an abyss between them, one he's desperately trying to eclipse. He wants to say _this is your house, my bed is your bed, I want to wake up beside you in the morning, I want to hold you close to me_ , but it's not the time yet, not until he can start to mend the rift.  
  
It's not as awkward as Geno imagined it might start out. Olli doesn't spend tons of time downstairs, but does dive right into helping him with dinner, balking unnecessarily as his suggestion they eat their tuna steaks with white rice. The riced cauliflower Olli spends way too much time, effort, and dishes on isn't _bad_ by any means, so Geno keeps his whining to himself. Revenge comes when he rips off a quarter of the baguette from the bread box, stuffing most of it in his mouth at once and chewing with a smile while Olli looks on in faux-disgust, before rolling his eyes and laughing, spouting some nonsense about how their ancestors never ate shit like this.

Geno reminds him they also didn’t have the opportunity to push their bodies to the limit with knife shoes on ice to work off said “shit”, and Olli looks at him like he’s hopeless.

Olli can barely walk without jostling his sling, so Geno doesn't extend an invitation for a post-dinner cardio session in the work room. He leaves Olli in the den, handing him the remote with an urging to make himself at home, and promises to be back soon. The day's been emotional enough, so Geno doesn't push hard, just working enough to get out some of the tension.  
  
He's almost to the end of the workout when he hears Olli come in. He's prepared to shoo him out if necessary, but one look at Olli chases away any doubts he's here to exercise. Olli's soaking wet from waist to knees, shirt plastered to his body, and the look of defeat on his face would be borderline priceless if Geno weren't so concerned.  
  
"What even...?" he begins, but stops when Olli gives him a forlorn look.  
  
"Can you come here, please?" Olli asks, looking at the ceiling, and he gets off the stationary, following Olli back to the kitchen. He can immediately see what the issue is, and he bites down on his cheek hard to stop himself from laughing, Olli watching his reaction carefully from the side.  
  
"Not use dishwasher before at apartment?" Geno tries, treading lightly, and Olli picks at his wet shirt, shoulders sagging.  
  
"Not really. I usually never make enough dishes to really need to by myself. I wash them by hand like I did at home growing up."  
  
There's a river of bubbles covering half of the kitchen floor, seeping along as they watch. He supposes that, no, Olli didn't realize that dish soap wasn't meant to go in the dishwasher, and that, from now on, he won’t make that mistake again.  
  
"So, you try clean, I'm guess," Geno surmises, looking Olli up and down, and Olli looks completely defeated. Geno pops open the storage closet door, ducking behind it as silent giggles start to break through.   
  
He doesn't want Olli trying to get on the floor and clean up the mess, but Olli stays by his side as he fights back against the avalanche, laughing so hard by this point he's in tears when he gets the dishwasher open and the bubbles explode out like a bomb going off. There's soap everywhere, bubbles dancing in the air, and he's more soaked than Olli by this point.  
  
"I'm not forget this," he says dangerously as Olli leans into the kitchen island, bright red from laughter. "I'm very careful if I'm you from now."  
  
It takes a good twenty minutes to clean up the mess, and by the end Geno throws the rags in the laundry room, leaving the what’s left of the water on the floor to evaporate. Olli's got this perpetual smile on his face that hasn't left since the bubble cannon blasted him, and he'd do this all night if it kept that smile there.  
  
"You’re asshole, laugh while I'm clean on knees, your mess!" he threatens, and Olli's smile breaks open, lighting up his whole face.  
  
"Can't believe you still laughing, fucker," Geno puts on, enjoying this type of play, but Olli just shakes his head, moving closer.  
  
"No, it's just- you have bubbles on your..."  
  
Olli doesn't finish, but his good arm reaches up, fingers wrapping around the back of Geno’s neck as his thumb swipes one cheek, moving toward Geno’s ear. Olli squints for a moment before giving him another swipe, and it's just reaction to grab Olli's wrist, circling his fingers around it, keeping it there. He's not holding on tightly; he wants Olli to be able to pull away, easily. Geno watches Olli's expression, and Olli's watching him in return.  
  
Waiting.  
  
So slowly, Geno turns his head, looking at Olli from the corner of his eyes. He cradles Olli's wrist in his hand, thumb stroking the soft skin on the inside once, twice. Olli's lips part, just barely, and in the quiet stillness of kitchen, Geno hears Olli's breath hitch as he leans in, brushing his mouth on the veins there, feeling the life point pulse against his lips. Olli makes a sound in his throat, and Geno slides his mouth towards Olli's fingers, placing a lingering kiss to the inside of his palm.  
  
Olli's fingers snatch out to grasp Geno’s chin, moving his face back toward him, and this is what he'll allow, Olli holding his face firm while he leans into him, mouth like a wildfire as it burns down into his soul. He remembers being 20, allowing his dick to make decisions it had no right to, and as much as he knows Olli's probably more than willing to let him bend him over the kitchen island right now and fuck him until he can't stand up anymore, he knows they need to fix whatever the hell happened between them before they should do that.

Geno feels relief that Olli doesn’t look regretful as he pulls back, and that he allows it to end. Olli lets himself be pulled into a careful embrace, and they rock together for a few moments, words unnecessary. Geno drops a kiss to the crown of Olli’s head, and Olli shakes a little.

“You okay?” Geno asks, and Olli mumbles something into his chest that sounds like “I just missed you a lot.” Olli’s always a surprise, so reserved one moment and then completely ready to give himself over without hesitation, and Geno knows that’s one of the reasons he loves him, so endearingly. Olli heads off to bed with a simple kiss goodnight, and Geno heads to his own room, not ready to sleep but content to daydream in bed for a while.

It’s only after he turns off the lights, blanket tucked under his arm, does he realize he told himself he loves Olli.

* * *

Life goes on, and there’s a sense of calm for the first time in months.

Olli’s working hard at PT, and stops by the locker room sometimes as a means of support for the entire team, though Geno figures he’s secretly a glutton for punishment, Olli always withdrawn for the rest of the night after he sits in the press box. There are copious amounts of fan mail and gifts sent in from around the world for the baby, and Olli seems to spend a lot of his free time wading through it all, the poker table in the game room a chaotic mountain of paper Geno can barely look at before getting anxious. Geno also hands off the responsibility of decorating the nursery, as well as finding potential baby names. When he gets back from road games, Olli’s usually waiting for him, laptop open and ready as he scrolls through different nursery designs, always ending with a list of five or ten names they fight over for easily an hour.

“It has to be a name that both of our families can appreciate,” Olli threatens, elbow in Geno’s ribs after he jokes about naming the baby Lyudmila for the umpteenth time. “And something Americans won’t fuck up.”

“Doesn’t exist,” Geno says between laughs, air punched out of his lungs as Olli digs in hard. “I already say Alex, good for boy or girl, but you say no.”

“Don’t you think Ovechkin is going to be insufferable enough about the baby, _without_ it sharing his name?” Olli waxes philosophical, and Geno sobers at the thought. It’s a valid point.

On ice, things are a bit more touch and go. The whole team is still getting shit from crowds and other players, and Olli’s honor is defended through force once again, though not by Geno this time. Columbus is in town, Geno watching the play come back down the ice, when he hears that distinct roar a crowd makes when a fight starts to break out, and he’s not totally shocked to see Sid ragdolling Dubinsky in the far corner. Sid comes off the ice in a fury, throwing his helmet and stick, and Geno almost can’t wait to hear what started this one during intermission.

The reality is much less exciting than he would have hoped for.

“Piece of shit starts talking about Olli, did he spread his legs for the whole team like a good carrier bitch, does he even know who the father is? I’ll fucking tear his fucking head off if he ever says a fucking word about him again, I swear to God!”

Everyone steers clear of Sid for the rest of the night, especially after Dubinsky strips the puck off of him during a power play and scores the shorthanded, go-ahead, game-winning goal. Sid is calm enough after cooling down post-game (and shattering a stick in the hallway), but Geno still feels like he’s poking at the sensitive spot left when you lose a tooth when he sits down by Sid in the change room.

“Was nice you stick up for Olli,” he says casually, and Sid watches him from the corner of his eyes as he jams his feet into shoes.

“I think I was sticking up for every carrier that gets stereotyped as a team slut,” Sid responds, and Geno weighs his next words carefully.

“You stick up for Olli, and you,” he says, trying to let his pride flow through his tone, and Sid seems to internalize it for a moment.

“He told me, before I punched him in the face, that it’s probably mine, that I probably thought I could fuck anyone without consequences,” Sid says, hand rubbing his stubble absent-mindedly. “When I had him pinned down on the ice, I reminded him carriers can’t get other carriers pregnant, so he didn’t have to spend time worrying about it.”

Geno feels shaken. Though Dubinsky probably isn’t in the visitor’s locker room at this very moment, telling every journo within hearing distance Crosby’s a big, fat, secret-keeping carrier, it’s still a massive break from his policy to keep this tightly under wraps, and Geno doesn’t know whether to feel in awe, or worried.

“Anyone else that tries me with that bullshit will get a similar response,” Sid says emphatically, slamming his locker closed.

Olli comments on the fight when Geno gets home, but he writes it off as their usual rivalry. The pregnancy seems to be affecting so many people and situations outside of just him and Olli, and Geno’s not sure how he feels about it yet. He suffices himself with knowing that, no matter what, they’ve got the right allies on their side, and that’s all that matters for the time being.

Olli seems to be restraining himself from searching out the negative responses in his free time, and most days, even when Geno knows he’s in a shit ton of pain from the shoulder healing, he seems genuinely, ecstatically happy. They’re starting to spend more time together again, reminiscent of those first few months of their relationship, when they had gotten to know each other over jokes and small gestures, endearing themselves to each other.

By late February, Olli is over halfway through the pregnancy, and every morning Geno watches Olli come down the stairs, bump just that much bigger. Olli is highly protective when other people try to touch him, constantly turning down Beau’s repeated attempts, and Geno’s apprehensive to ask, even though he feels like a strutting peacock every time Olli walks past him, so prideful he has to remind himself he barely did any of the work in this process.

They have a three-day break, the last before the season ends, and they spend it setting up the crib and changing table, a process that almost leads to tears of frustration on Geno’s part and Olli having to lay down and take a nap halfway through. As the afternoon gets later, they head downstairs, and Olli puts on The Two Towers for the eleven millionth time, feeding Geno popcorn as he quotes the entire movie from memory. It's only when Olli drops his head to his shoulder that Geno even realizes he's been rubbing the swell of Olli’s belly, softly as Olli snuggles down even closer into his side. The movie's still going, but Geno can't tell the last part he actually watched; he's looking at the screen, but the only feeling he's processing is the one at his fingertips, rubbing circles over the tautness of Olli's skin.  
  
Geno presses a little firmer, and jumps in surprise when he feels a thump answer back. He yanks his hand away, but Olli laughs, reaching out for it again and placing it low across his bump. "They'll play with you now, watch," Olli says, and he makes Geno's hand tap twice along his skin. Geno smiles in awe as he gets two strong kicks back, watching Olli's whole stomach move as he and the baby go back and forth.   
  
"Strong," Geno says, half in wonder, and Olli snorts.  
  
"Yeah, at three am mostly. I'll probably end up with another bruised kidney, though from the inside this time."  
  
Geno gives him an incredulous look, and Olli laughs out loud, whole body shaking as the baby moves along. Olli turns to look over at him, and they’re so close he can feel Olli’s warm breath fan out across his mouth. Geno's hunched down into the the cushion of the couch, looking up at Olli, and when he does, Olli's laugh melts away, though the smile remains, that subtle one-sided smirk he does.  
  
It just seems natural to lean up into Olli, and Olli meets Geno halfway, hand wrapping around the back of his neck to pull Geno even closer. Olli is warm and soft and Geno thinks about just how _comfortable_ this is. There's a word floating around in the back of his mind, fighting for attention and losing against the feel of Olli on his lips, the taste of him as Olli opens his mouth a little and lets him in, and he finally grasps it for a second before Olli's tongue slides across his bottom lip: content. He's so content, with Olli by his side, their baby underneath his palm, strong and well. The movie rolls to credits in the background after a while, but Geno doesn't notice; everything is Olli, the warmth he's giving off, the way his hair presses back into Geno's palm when he runs a hand through it again and again.  
  
At some point, the light changes in the room, shadows cast long as the sun moves lower in the sky. Olli tucks his head into the crease of Geno's neck with a sigh, and Geno presses a kiss to Olli's forehead, lips lingering there when Olli seems happy not to move yet. Their fingers are laced over Olli's bump once again, but the baby seems quiet now. "Asleep," Olli says, when Geno moves his hand along his skin in question. "For once, at least." Geno knows Olli can feel his smile pressed against his temple.

Eventually, they move on, heading to the kitchen to get dinner ready. Olli stands next to him, dicing tomatoes as he browns some ground turkey, and the pervasive feeling of something like home settles into his bones, making him feel easy and loose, as if he’s drank a few glasses of heady wine. They eat together on the patio, conversation gentle and free-flowing as Olli rubs at his ankle with cold toes under the table, and they clean up the kitchen as the sun goes down. He rinses off the dishes in the sink, handing them to Olli to put in the dishwasher, and Olli wipes down the counters and table when he takes the trash out. When he walks back through the kitchen, headed upstairs, he can’t help but smile at their combined effort.

Olli peeks his head out of his room when Geno comes upstairs, and he stops outside his door, unsure if Olli needs help. “You okay?” he asks, and Olli steps out into the hall, set of pajamas in hand.

“Mind if I use your bath? My back is killing me after all that furniture, and I want to use the jets in there.”

“Yeah, no problem.” Geno figures he’ll just watch TV until Olli’s done, wanting to give him any space he needs, but Olli waves for him to come along. “I probably need help getting into the tub,” Olli explains, and Geno follows him in, standing to the side as he gets undressed.

It’s a process to watch, and Geno doesn’t quite understand how Olli manages alone. The sling comes off first, unstrapped from his waist and then his shoulder. Next, he watches Olli carefully and painfully pull off his sweater; he moves forward, wanting to help him, but Olli shies away. “If it gets moved at all,” Olli explains, “it’s really bad. It’s probably just easier if I do it.”

Geno fills the tub as Olli gets out of his undershirt, going slow but having an easier time, and Geno turns to watch him, feeling overwhelmed by the sight, skin smooth over the round of his bump. It’s so different than seeing it beneath his shirt. Olli seems to understand his fascination, and doesn’t appear shy as he drops his sweats and boxers, head turned to the side away from Geno’s gaze but seemingly allowing him to drink his fill in of the sight.

Olli walks to him, waiting for the tub to finish, and he reaches for Geno’s hand, fingers lightly lacing with his. “You want to feel it?” Olli asks, and he’s already totally been rubbing Olli’s bump all day now, but there’s no way he’s saying no to that. Olli moves his hand to place it along the swell of it, but Geno steps forward, toes touching toes, and cups Olli with two hands, smoothing over both sides.

“Look so beautiful,” Geno says, and Olli looks up at him. “Feel beautiful, too.”

Olli’s knees seem to buckle a little, and Geno smiles roguishly as Olli tries to keep it together. “Everything about you beautiful now,” he continues, fingers tracing circles at the top of the swell, and Olli whines low in his throat when he traces the back of his hand across one dark, swollen nipple, watching it tighten in response; this part of him is changing, too. He does it again, this time on purpose, and Olli’s head tilts back, eyes fluttering closed.

“Come, water ready,” Geno says abruptly, and Olli looks distraught as he backs away, but he follows regardless. Geno helps him into the tub and grabs a washcloth, lathering it up and Olli gets comfortable. “I do it?” Geno asks when Olli reaches out for it, and Olli’s eyes are dark as he nods, sitting back and letting him drag the cloth down his chest. Geno is so careful, so slow, enjoying the ability to explore every part of Olli’s developing body at his leisure. Olli drags one wet hand over his face and through his hair when Geno rubs into the muscle of his inner thighs, careful not to touch between his legs.

“I keep dreaming about you,” Olli says, and Geno gives him a quick glance, hand still making lazy rounds on Olli’s bump. Olli’s eyes are shut tight, twitching when Geno dips dangerously low, and Geno should probably feel bad about leaving Olli on edge like this, but he doesn’t. The proof of Olli’s arousal isn’t shrouded by the water, would be obvious even if it were, but Geno still plays innocent.

“What you dream about?” Geno asks, and Olli cracks open one eye, before squeezing it shut again.

“You fucking me within an inch of my life.”

The splash when Geno drops the washcloth resounds through the room, and Geno can tell Olli’s trying to fight looking smug, the little shit. But two can play that game. “Not sure that’s okay,” Geno muses, fingers walking up along the inside of Olli’s thigh. Olli shifts uncomfortably, and Geno just avoids missing brushing up against his erection; he’s not sure if that was on purpose or not.

“Trust me, I’ve done the research,” Olli reassures, eyes open and apparently done with playing. “It’s totally fine.”

Geno’s hand swirls through the water, dragging along Olli’s collarbone. “Do you want me to touch you?” he asks finally, and Olli seems to curl in on himself, chewing one side of his lip.

“God, _please_ , Geno,” he whispers, and Geno pushes his hand under the water, cupping Olli firmly. Olli’s almost vibrating, chest heaving when  Geno pumps his erection twice. Geno drains the water, just hoping Olli doesn’t get cold, and climbs in the tub between Olli’s legs. He can’t get down enough to suck Olli off, but Olli doesn’t seem to mind when he gets one hand on his dick and three fingers inside of him and just _goes_ for it. There’s no rhythm, no technique besides getting Olli off, and Olli’s knuckles go white on the edge of the tub when he moans “Geno, Geno” and comes heavily between them. Olli leans back, chest heaving, as Geno fishes himself out of his sweatpants, pumping quick and hard. Olli’s body is laid out like a banquet before him, flushed and wet, and he gets one arm on the edge of the porcelain behind Olli’s head to keep himself up as he ducks down, sucking at one of Olli’s tight, pink nipples. It’s Olli’s noise of profound, aroused shock more than anything that sends him over the edge, and his come strips Olli’s bump. Geno’s sure he’s probably going to Hell for thinking it, but it’s one of the most vividly erotic things he’s ever seen.

Olli seems introspective as he watches Geno come down off his high. “Is this a thing for you?” Olli asks, genuinely wanting to know. “You a thing for me,” Geno says gruffly, dropping a kiss on Olli’s forehead before helping him out of the tub and into the shower to wash off. Geno feels a little sorry Olli never even got to use to jets, but hopes the orgasm more than makes up for it.

Olli lingers in the bathroom after Geno finishes brushing his teeth and getting dressed, and Geno almost goes back before Olli comes out, looking pink. Olli toys with the hem of his t-shirt before squaring his shoulders, making Geno raise an eyebrow in question. “I was thinking, if you don’t mind, maybe I could stay with you…” Olli says, and Geno flips down the other side of the duvet.

“Come on.”

Between the bump and Olli’s shoulder, cuddling isn’t really going to be a thing, but Olli still presses close, almost nose to nose, as they settle in for the night. Within a minute, Geno feels a tapping, almost a pitter patter, along his lower belly, and Olli makes a noise in the dark.

“Really do this all night?” Geno asks, and Olli hums an answer.

“Oh, this is just the warm-up right now.”

* * *

They fit into a routine. Geno allows himself to dream, for a little bit, about a forever of waking up with Olli at home with him. Olli’s nesting tendencies start picking up, and he somehow turns into a veritable domestic god overnight. Geno finds he can't complain about a hot meal in the morning, someone who understands and practically reveres his nap schedule, someone who gets the ins and outs of what a hockey player needs.  
  
Geno’s rushing for the puck in the corner in early March when Chris Kelly tries to go knee-on-knee; he just barely avoids direct contact, but his skate catches on the ice, rolling his ankle, and he knows it's fucked. He makes it back to the room, to make sure nothing’s too bad, gets an injection, and heads back out. It doesn't help. By the time the first period is over, he knows he can't skate on it without making it worse, and he's done for the game. It doesn’t matter Sid was scratched late with a stomach bug, and he’s out with his ankle - Flower gets the shutout, and they live to fight another day.  
  
Or so he thinks.  
  
The injury is almost so minor it becomes more frustrating than truly painful. Nothing's broken, nothing's sprained, just tweaked enough to mess up his skating to the point of making him drag, and he wishes for one impetuous moment that it was something worse, so sitting out would be more justifiable. If it were major, he wouldn’t feel as bad missing games, but on the other hand, he knows if he pushes through and goes out, he’ll fuck over his chances for the playoffs, if they get there. The season's already been bad enough, and they're looking down the stretch with not a lot of optimism.  
  
They drop five of the six games he misses.  
  
Most of the losses are close, and when they lose to the Blues at home in overtime, Geno finally snaps. He drives home in a rage, mad at the team, mad at Johnston, mad at himself. He doesn't have to look at the standings to know where they are right now. For the first time in his career in Pittsburgh, it looks like the playoffs are out of reach, and more than anything, he's completely embarrassed. For the fans to have someone like him, someone like Sid, guys like Tanger and Flower and yet to not even make the fucking playoffs is a _joke_.   
  
Geno yanks the keys out of the ignition, slamming the door of the car shut and flinging open the one to the mud room. He walks through the den, Olli on the floor doing yoga stretches that are approved for his rehab in front of the TV, and that irritates him even more. Olli looks over his shoulder to say hi, and seems to think better of it when he sees Geno’s face, and while he should be thankful Olli has the common sense to try and avoid walking into a fight, it makes him more willing to start one.

He walks into the kitchen, digging through the pantry before coming up with a package of Pop-Tarts, foil creaking as he tears it open, and shoves half of one in his mouth all at once, chewing angrily. It takes two swallows to clear his mouth, and he shoves the other half in. He's never been an emotional eater, but this is _exactly_ the type of thing he shouldn't have while he’s on limited workouts, and he wants to fuck up everything in the world right now, if he can manage it. He looks at the second Pop-Tart in his hand, and knows just how to start.  
  
Olli watches him carefully as he come back into the living room, knowing without a doubt he's upset and for what reason as well, and Geno shoves the Pop-Tart under Olli's nose as he's doing lunges, Olli barely ducking out of the way so it doesn't end up straight in his mouth.

"Eat it."  
  
Olli’s too aware of his buttons and how to push them, and carefully avoids doing that as much as he avoids the Pop-Tart being waved in his face. Olli stretches down, into some kind of downward dog that doesn't strain his arm, and politely declines. "I'm good, thanks. Not really into eating those."  
  
Geno laughs, but there’s no humor in it. "Why it matter? Why you care about diet, anyway? Pointless."  
  
Olli looks at him, sitting back on his knees, as if trying to figure what the root cause of this is - jealousy, anger, fear. Olli looks so calm, but Geno still hears the emotion in his voice when he says, "I don't know why you're upset with me, but this isn't my fault. You think I don't feel like shit watching us fall apart? I'd be out there right now in a second if I could, but I can't."  
  
They both know exactly what _this_ is. This whole season has been one big multi-car pile-up of disaster after disaster, practically without end. Geno knows it’s wrong to take it out on Olli, but he just can't seem to pull himself together long enough to stop it from coming out of his mouth.  
  
"Was avoidable."  
  
Olli's hand flies so quickly to his bump Geno thinks for a moment he's in pain, but he just rubs it soothingly, again and again as he turns to look up at him. Regret stings through him like a whiplash, so strong he reaches out for Olli, almost pleadingly, but Olli avoids him, rising unsteadily off the mat by himself, and Geno feels like the absolute smallest, shittiest person in the world.  
  
"I still had to have season-ending surgery no matter what,“ Olli says, standing tall to look him in his face. ”Even if nothing else happened, I was still going to be out after December. I might not have played here as long as you have, but this has still been my team since the day I was drafted. I didn’t need you to remind me how fucking awful I feel that I haven't helped my team in any way this entire year."  
  
Geno lets Olli go, only because he's too mortified at himself to even be able to respond. Olli didn't even comment on the fact he essentially called their child a mistake, and that alone is better than he deserved. He sits on the couch, half-expecting Olli to come down again, bag in hand, and walk out, but it doesn't happen. Geno waits thirty minutes, running everything he said around and around again in his head, before he heads upstairs.

The door at the end of the hallway is shut, and Olli doesn’t answer when he knocks, but when he cracks it open, the shower is running in the bathroom. Something like relief pours through him, and then misery; he's secretly grateful Olli doesn't seem to be going anywhere, at least for the night, but he wouldn't blame him if he did, and he doesn’t see how he can even begin to start apologizing for this.  
  
Falling asleep isn't that hard, all things considered; he’s mentally exhausted, and sleeps comes almost as soon as he lays down. However, sleep evades him for the rest of the night, dragging him back into consciousness repeatedly. He wakes up panicked every hour, feeling like he's hearing the sound of a closing door, an opening garage, any hint that Olli has decided it’s just better to leave.  
  
Around 3, he's up for good. This time, he actually does hear some noise, Olli moving around upstairs. When he holds his breath, just for the complete silence, there's an unmistakable shuffle of feet going down the rug in the hallway, followed the creak of the floorboard outside the nursery. He waits, thinking maybe Olli's just coming and going to and from the kitchen, but time passes, and he can still hear Olli's steady track, down the hall and back again, almost as if in circles.  
  
Geno isn't quiet when he steps out into the hallway, hoping to give Olli the ability to refuse his concern, if that's what he would want. Olli's leaning against the window sill by the stairs, bare arm pressed against the glass. He's wrapped his bump in an embrace, and the moonlight coming through the window makes his hair look almost snow white. Olli turns his head just enough to acknowledging his presence, but he doesn't say anything, looking out across the backyard.  
  
"Can't sleep?" Geno asks when he steps up behind him, daring to run a hand up Olli's arm, cupping his healing shoulder gently when he reaches the top, but Olli doesn't shrug him off, and allows it to rest there. Olli moves, just readjusting against the window, and Geno is fascinated as always by the beauty of Olli's body, still so strong, months into his pregnancy, months into his limited routines.   
  
"I couldn't," Olli says evenly, "because this one couldn't."  
  
He reaches around Olli tentatively, half-expecting Olli to push him away, half-deserving to be denied, but Olli doesn't stop him. Geno places his wide palm flat against the swell, and feels the storm rolling inside. The baby is restless, moving every few seconds, stretching and elbowing, and he can see why it would be impossible to find sleep like this.

"You stress out. It’s not good for baby. Make baby stress, too," he says, not realizing how accusatory it comes off until he sees Olli staring at him out of the corner of his eye like he’s the biggest asshole in the world, and he coughs a little awkwardly. "It’s my fault. I stress out you, I stress out baby. Not nice of me. I’m really upset about losing and not making playoffs, but I’m dick to take it out on you."

Olli looks back out across the backyard, thoughtful for a moment. "You think I don't care,“ Olli says finally, but it’s not really an accusation.

Geno sighs. "I’m not mean to say that-"  
  
"It’s true. I don’t care,” Olli interrupts, and he’s definitely on edge, but not really angry. “Not as much as I should. I don’t care as much as you or Sid or anyone else on the team. I would be out there if I could, but I’m not sorry I’m not, and I don’t think I should feel bad about that."

“No, shouldn’t feel bad,” Geno tries, placating, and Olli readjusts again, elbowing him in the gut, maybe accidentally, but maybe not.

“I have more important things to care about. Every time I see anyone, they all talk to me about how I must miss the ice and want to get back out, and I do, I really, really do, but, I don’t know. My mind’s not there right now. This is more important. This is what I care about,” Olli continues, pressing Geno’s hand against the spot where the baby kicks, as if illustrating the life blooming within and its’ importance.

Geno wants to says he understands, but fears it will come off disingenuous. In reality, he’s been so worried about breaking the playoff streak, he’s hardly even thought about the baby; it’s been far off in his mind, something on his to-do list after maintaining their streak, getting through the playoffs, winning another Stanley Cup. Between Olli having the baby and the general public not knowing he’s the father, and the way that’s shielded him from the criticism Olli has faced, he hasn’t really had to think about it all too much. Not that he hasn’t spent more than a few restless nights, a handful of conversations with his dad about how to be a good father, just rolling around the idea in his head, but it still hasn’t become real, and he knows that’s why he hasn’t truly understood Olli’s struggle until now. Olli has to face it every day. Olli, who gets woken up ten times a night being kicked, who gags when the slightest smell is off-putting, who people do a double take at in the grocery store. Who holds his head up high when he hears the insults, the slurs said about him.

At some point, early on, Geno had become aware much of the disapproval of their relationship stemmed from the differences in age - how could a 28 year old find common ground with a teenager? Though he protectively doesn’t want to share this side of Olli with anyone else, he feels it would help people understand their relationship so much better, and why Geno’s rapidly being unable to imagine a life without Olli. Because Olli makes him better every day, through his resiliency, with his ability to see things in ways Geno feels he never could. It’s true, Geno wouldn’t have chosen it like this, but he’s glad that when it happened anyway, it was Olli by his side.

They’re both quiet for a long time. The grandfather clock at the end of the hall is the only sound, and Geno thinks it must be around ten minutes before Olli speaks again. “Did you know what made me decide to move in?” he asks.

“I think you lonely, right?” Geno offers, and Olli makes a face.

“No, it wasn’t that, at least not really,” Olli says. “A few days before I came, I was hanging out with Scott and Beau and Derrick and- I just felt so out of touch with them. Like, they were talking about going out and hooking up, and I’m not saying that maybe if I weren’t pregnant and hung up on you since the day I got here that I wouldn’t be doing the same, but- Beau said something like, ‘oh, it’s too bad you never got to do this, and you never will.’ But I didn’t feel bad at all. I realized that everyone I talk to, no matter how much they support me, always finds the negative in this. Some of it’s obvious, like, you know, what are people going to think about you having a baby this young, but so many people remind me on a daily basis what I’m sacrificing for this.”

Olli stops for a moment, eyes going soft. “Except you. I literally cried for maybe like three days straight before I told you because I was so worried you were going to blame me, and don’t act like you don’t blame people for shit, because you really do, no offense. But besides, like, my mom, you’re the only person who’s never asked if I thought I was making the wrong decision. You’re the only person who’s never tried to point out something that could go wrong, or something that I’m going to miss. And I realized that you’ve always been like that to me. From day one, you’ve never downplayed what I felt. And I know there were times you probably didn’t agree with me on things, but you never tried to talk down to me, like you knew better.”

“I don’t,” Geno jokes, and Olli really elbows him this time.

“What I’m saying is- I’ve never met someone like you. I don’t just mean as a hockey player. A long time ago, I told you that everyday I was glad that you chose me, out of all the people in the world. I still feel like that, every day, even when you’re being ridiculous. Like now. I told you I didn’t want to make decisions that couldn’t be undone, and that’s why I hesitated. But after some time, I realized this wasn’t a decision I would want to change.”

It’s the most emotion he’s ever seen from Olli, and he doesn’t even know if he’s supposed to answer or just listen, but Olli looks over at him, watching his response, reaching out for him. “I think I’m kind of in love with you,” Olli says, voice so soft it’s almost like a whisper.

Geno wonders for a moment, as he pulls Olli to him, if it will always be like this, if it will always be him in awe of Olli, of his strength and his humility and his complete ability to turn Geno’s world on his head at a moment’s notice, leaving Geno reeling as he tries to catch up. Maybe, he thinks, it’s not so bad that Olli is keeping him on his toes.

“I’m know what I said earlier, it’s not okay. I say because was being dick just to be dick. This also not how I think I start my family but I’m not upset it happen like this, you know? And yes, now I’m think about, everyone worry, us and fans, we not make playoffs and break streak, embarrass everyone. Is bad timing but if you out there you just get blamed, too. I’m blamed, Sid blamed, everyone, probably. We all so worried no one thinking with right heart, everybody pissed. I say this because we want you on ice with team, me too. I want you with team playing, but I want you here more, always, with me, because I’m, what you say, kind of in love.”

He stops because Olli gives him something of a surprised look, and he gives an earnest one back.

“Should tell you how you make life better, everyday.”

* * *

They manage to squeak in and drag themselves into the playoffs with a win in their last game, but it’s for nothing. They just avoid being swept by the Rangers in the first round, and Geno honestly doesn’t know what he feels when Hagelin’s shot hits the back of the net in OT, finishing their season off like the final nail in the coffin. MSG roars around them, but Geno almost doesn’t feel it, something in his mind starting to turn, a gear changing over from hockey life to real life. At first he thinks it’s just the numbness of having a season ended so abruptly, but by the time he lands back in Pittsburgh, he realizes he’s actually _excited_.

It lasts about thirty minutes, the drive from the airport back home.

His big suitcase is sitting in the middle of the closet, and he’s debating what exactly his mother is trying to hint at when Olli comes in, stack of shirts folded in his arms, and proceeds to dump them in the suitcase. Geno watches in fascination as Olli opens drawers, throwing socks and pajamas in as well, before he asks stupidly “where we going?”

“I _’_ m not going anywhere,” Olli says, debating over two pairs of trainers. “You’re going to the Czech Republic.”

“Oh,” Geno says, still not getting it. “Why?” By the time Olli turns around to give him a look, it’s sunk in.

“I’m not play,” he says half-heartedly, almost forgetting about the possibility, and Olli stops pulling clothes off of hangers, giving him his full attention.

“I want to be supportive of your decision, either way, but before we get into why you have decided you’re not going, I’d just like to point out I’m many weeks away from my due date, I will be with your parents for the entire time you’re gone, and you’ll be back within three weeks. Think of it as an extended road trip. If you were still in the playoffs, you’d be away from home half the time anyway.”

They’re all valid points, but there’s a bit of a difference in a flight back from somewhere like Anaheim compared to a flight back from Prague. His mind feels like it’s malfunctioning, gears switching back into hockey mode so abruptly it feels like a car stalling, and by the time he gets the call asking him to come a few hours later, he has no hesitation in saying yes. He needs to leave within three days to get to the city in time to adjust and prepare, and he tries to enjoy it with Olli before he leaves.

“What you and my parents talk about when I’m gone?” he asks, getting into bed the night before he’s set to fly out, and Olli laughs.

“Absolutely nothing. I mean, besides the language thing, your mother will be too busy spoon-feeding me to let me get any talking done.”

His dad drives him to the airport in the late afternoon, and he kisses Olli’s bump, promising the baby he’ll miss it, and that he’ll beat Uncle Sid and bring home gold. The time difference isn’t great, not when he’s already tired and the only time he can catch Olli is at night, after games are done and it’s just afternoon back in Pittsburgh. Olli and his mother both affectionately complain about the other, and Papa seems lost in the middle.

“He doesn’t want to drink the kefir she bought,” his dad has explained one day, about a week after he left, “and your mother is not giving in so easily.”

Geno throws himself into the tournament with all he can, trying to savor the last time Russia might choose to call upon him to play on the team for a while, maybe ever. It’s bittersweet, looking around the locker room, and wondering who might not speak to him again in a few weeks, when the organization has agreed to release to the press a full announcement with both of their names, upon the arrival of the baby. When they make it to the gold medal game, Geno spends the night before dreaming of one last team gold, the celebrations that would happen when they won, one last moment of camaraderie for him with his home country, united in victory.

His last-minutes goal that prevents them from being shutout is the only thing that keeps him grounded as he watches Canada lift the cup. The rest of the team skates off in disgust, him and Sasha and Dima trying to get them to stay, and at least he gets to watch Sid join the triple gold club, the first to do it as captain of all three teams, at least he gets to feel some happiness about something. The post-game locker room is snippy and subdued, and despite a medal win, no one celebrates. Geno understands the disappointment, but the attitude in the face of their loss leaves a bitter taste in his mouth.

Sid comes by much later, a little tipsy, but not enough to say something stupid. Geno’s just finished off an hour long phone call with Olli, Mama, and Papa, in which he had ranted in whatever language came to him first, mixing Russian and English as it came to him. He’s ready for bed, and lets Sid know he’s surprised to see him here.

“Should be celebrating,” Geno says, and Sid shrugs.

“I’ll go back soon. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

Geno looks at Sid, and sees the same face he saw almost ten years ago, when he barely spoke a word of English but Sid never gave up on him, taking him out to lunch and chatting without end, just to fill the space. At first, Geno had thought him ridiculous and impractical, but somewhere along the line, over cheese sticks and milkshakes, Sid’s words had begun to register. He began to understand what Sid meant when he laughed about some food on the menu he’d love to eat, but would never dream on his diet, or when Sid talked about Alexa and Austin fighting over the Xbox controller.

“I’m not okay,” Geno admits, never easy after all this time, but it doesn’t feel like he has to drag it out of himself. Here, with Sid, it’s fine to say. It’s safe.

Geno steels himself for what Sid is going to say, but it still breaks his heart when Sid says, “Geno, you’re one of the best players to ever play for Russia, and no matter what, no one will ever be able to deny that. They’ll never take that away from you, because you’re one of the greatest of all time, and people will always love you.”

Sid doesn’t leave him until the crying’s done, until he’s calm enough to wash his face off and sit on the edge of the bed and take a deep, centering breath. He wants to say thank you, but he knows Sid isn’t looking for that. Sid’s here because he knows him that well, know what this whole tournament has meant to him, and because he’s one of the best people Geno will ever have the privilege of calling a friend.

He flies out of Prague on the first flight the next morning, half-awake as he goes through customs at four am. Now that hockey is really done, his brain switches completely into ‘home’ mode, and for the first time in his life, that means flying east with the sun, away from the place he was born.

Seeing Olli in person after three weeks is a shock, and Geno instantly runs his hands all over his bump, which has seemingly doubled over three weeks. “You huge!” he says, and his mother must understand what he’s saying, because she slaps at his shoulder, incredulous he would remark on the size of pregnant person.

Olli’s mother flies in after school ends in Finland at the beginning of June, followed by Olli’s dad a week later. Their presence seems to lift Olli’s spirits, dragging as the toll of the pregnancy weighs down on him in the final weeks, and their house is a bustling mix of English, Finnish, and Russian, three conversations in different languages going on at the dinner table each night. As much as he enjoys having both of their parents there to help, Geno finds he looks forward bedtime the most, when he and Olli can spend a little time unwinding and enjoying each other before the baby arrives.

Every night, he presses up against Olli’s belly, speaking a little Russian to the baby, sometimes a reflection of the day, sometimes the stories his parents told him growing up. Olli listens, stroking through his hair, slowly dozing off. Geno found if he talked to the baby at bedtime, it helped both Olli and baby fall asleep easier. He places a kiss against the swell of Olli, murmuring a goodnight, before coming up to kiss Olli as well.

One night, after the baby seems to have settled, Geno tucks himself in, leaning forward to drop one last kiss on Olli’s head, and says “you think baby always be so easy to go to sleep?”

Olli doesn’t even open his eyes. “I don’t know, but she seems to like Russian, so maybe that will be your job.”

“She? You know?”

Olli’s too tired to really follow along with what he’s asking, obviously already halfway into sleep, but he manages to answer with something that leaves Geno thinking. “I don’t _know_ know, but I just know, you know?”

For some reason, the idea that it is a daughter thrills him in a way he can’t explain. He strokes Olli’s belly, wondering about who the person inside will be one day. He’s so ready to find out.

* * *

Geno hears Olli get up and go into the bathroom around 1:30 in the morning. It's not so unusual - now that the baby has turned as labor draws near, its’ head seems to be ramming into Olli's bladder every five minutes; when they went to Target a few days ago to pick up a few last minute things, Olli took three pee breaks in the hour they were there.

Geno stirs again sometime later, reaching out sleepily to pull Olli in, when his hand hits empty, cold sheets. He sits up abruptly, suddenly worried, but the light's still on in the bathroom, and he can hear the shower running. It's just after three am.

Olli's very obviously in the middle of a contraction when Geno finds him, sitting under the stream of the showerhead, water burning hot. Olli's face is grimaced, eyes squeezed shut tight, and Geno can't help but feel his heart break a little, knowing Olli's going to have endure this pain by himself and he can't take any of it away. Finally, Olli seems to release the breath he's been holding, shoulders sagging, and he smiles when he sees Geno staring at him through the glass.

"Why you not wake me up?" he says, trying to seem curious and not upset, and Olli shrugs.

"They weren't very close together. I think we still have another few hours before we need to do anything. Might as well let you sleep as long as you can, we're not going to sleep for the next eighteen years."

He rolls his eyes in response as Olli cracks a grin, dropping his boxers to the floor and stepping into the shower. He holds Olli for a while, supporting him as he has three or four more contractions, until Olli is hanging on to him loosely, obviously exhausted. He suggests moving Olli back to the bed, but Olli gets frantic at the idea of leaving the heat of the water, starting to tear up before another contraction hits. Geno helps him through it, reminding him to breathe, and then leaves him in the shower to run the bath. It takes a considerable effort to get Olli into the tub, but he seems to melt once he's settled in, finally dozing between contractions. When the water goes cold, he drains it and fills it again, and they both sleep on and off, Olli in the tub, him on the floor next to it, until the sun rises.

Around 7, the minutes between the contractions start dropping off, and Olli's just barely managing to not cry out when they hit. After a particularly strong one, he drops a quick kiss on the top of Olli's head as he relaxes back into the water, promising him he'll be back in a minute, and throws on a pair of pajamas, headed to start a pot of coffee for the rest of them - they're going to need it.

Geno sneaks down the hallway past the guest rooms, trying to stay quiet, but it's practically unnecessary - both of their mothers are sitting side by side in the kitchen, coffee mugs in hand and wearing matching expressions of concern, fully dressed and seemingly ready to leave at a moment's notice.

Olli's mom asks "how long has he been in labor?" just as his mother asks "how long between the labor pains?" and he holds up both hands, unable to handle both languages at once. He makes himself a cup of coffee, takes a fortifying gulp, and explains to both of them what the situation is. They agree it’s time to head to the hospital, and he goes upstairs to get Olli ready.

Olli’s just coming to a big contraction when he gets back, and he lets Olli almost break his hand as he helps him breathe through it. Geno gets him toweled off and in underwear and pants before the next one hits, Olli draped over his shoulders as he rocks on his feet, breathing against the pain, and Geno’s stomach knots against the sound. Olli’s doing so well, but they both know this is just the beginning, and he hates the idea he’s going to watch Olli go through all the pain without him being able to take any of it away.

Olli seems to be in good spirits, despite the contractions. Geno gets a shirt over Olli’s head and helps him slip into his loafers before heading to the closet to grab the hospital bag. Olli smiles at him as he grabs the body pillow off the bed and throws it over his shoulder, one last glance around the room for anything else, but stops him before he gets to the door, looking serious.

“Okay?” Geno asks, a little worried, but Olli just nods.

“I just wanted-” Olli starts, and then wraps around him, ducking his head into Geno’s shoulder. Geno isn’t sure if he should drop the stuff in his hands and hold him, but Olli speaks before he has a chance to think about it. “This is the last moment of me and you, you know?” Olli mumbles, and he gets it. He lets the bag and pillow drop to the floor, and tilts Olli’s face up to look at him.

“To us,” Geno says, and Olli kisses him, a kiss full of hope and expectation.

Geno surprises himself and probably everyone else in the car when he manages to not drive like a maniac all the way to the hospital, though he almost loses control of the wheel and hops a curb after Olli moans deeply at a hard contraction. Between contractions, Olli seems to be more alert and calm than through the middle of the night, and he’s just thankful Olli seems to thrive off of adrenaline. They wheel him to the elevator with another woman who’s just been admitted, and Olli’s so hyped up he chats all the way to their floor, wishing her well as they’re wheeled off to different exam rooms.

They stay in the room for almost 30 minutes while the nurses check Olli’s dilation and the baby’s heartbeat, and everything seems to be going well. Olli almost begins to joke that they could have had the baby at home, but Geno sends him a leveling look that ends that sentence abruptly. Olli chats and chats and chats, to him, to his mom, to the nurses, and Geno realizes the calmness he thought he was seeing was just well disguised anxiety.

He convinces Olli to go for a walk, an idea supported by the nurses to keep the labor moving on, and that seems to give him something to focus on. Olli falls back into his quieter self, clutching Geno’s hand as they walk the halls, and it’s almost an hour before they get back to the exam room. Olli is still rocking on his feet, not ready to lie down, when he suddenly starts, the rest of the room watching as he looks down. “I think my water is breaking,” Olli says, but there’s no thinking about it; the grey of his sweatpants turns dark down the inside of his legs, and Olli looks up at them excitedly.

For the next few hours, chaos reigns.

The water breaking speeds up the labor, and they get Olli to his room right before the contractions start hitting every two to three minutes. Geno’s mother had explained the phases of labor to him briefly, and he knows they hit transition when Olli keeps switching between frantic Finnish and English, almost too jumbled to make sense. He catches the “I can’t do this, I can’t do this”, and leans down into Olli’s space, whispering in his ear to _breathe, breathe, breathe_. The nurse examines Olli again, and makes a delighted face to them all.

“Everyone, it’s time to have a baby!”

Olli can’t seem to catch a breath, and Geno’s really beginning to worry. He leans in close, wanting to help Olli concentrate, when Olli tugs at his hand.

“I need- ” Olli stutters, and one of the nurses heads out for the doctor.

“What is it?” Geno asks, and Olli yells “I need it out! Now!”

“Do you feel the urge to push?” the nurse asks, mid-prep, and Olli snaps “obviously!” Geno looks at his mother, concerned, and she gives him a reassuring nod - this is normal.

Dr. Parviainen arrives already prepared for delivery, and she gives everyone a cheery greeting as she slides onto the stool waiting for her. Olli seems to calm at her presence, and everyone grabs their spot as she tells Olli it’s okay to start pushing.

It all seems to happen really fast. It takes Olli six hard pushes before Geno can see the baby’s head, and within another push and a half, the shoulders pop out, and Dr. Parviainen is pulling the baby free, suctioning out the mouth. She places the baby on Olli’s chest, and time just _stops_.

He watches Olli cradle the baby against his chest, shushing it as the first cries fill the room. Geno blinks, vision blurry, and it’s only then he realizes he’s absolutely sobbing. He leans down, and Olli reaches for him, pulling him in until they’re holding the baby between them. His mother is talking, to the baby he realizes, helping the nurse wipe it clean, and his world stops when he hears her say “welcome to the world, little girl.”

Geno laughs and cries at the same time. “You right,” he whispers into Olli’s ear, and Olli looks up from the baby. “It’s baby girl.”

She’s seemed to have settled down, mouthing against the skin of Olli’s collarbone as she searches for something to suckle, and Geno knows she can’t really see anything yet, but when she turns her head, it’s almost like she’s looking right at him. Her eyes are an inky kind of black, just darker than the shock of hair across the crown of her head. It’s as dark as his, but it sticks up straight like Olli’s. He looks at her mouth, and her nose, and her eyes and she looks _exactly_ like him - no one will ever mistake who this child came from.

“Hello, Sofia, it’s your papa” he says in Russian, and Olli smiles fondly when he says it too, this time in Finnish.

“Hello, Sofia, I’m your isi.”

The first hour is serenely peaceful; the doula and both of their mothers help Olli get Sofia to latch for the first time, and then Geno gets to dress her as the doctors help Olli with the afterbirth. She wiggles all around, squawking angrily when he gets her arm stuck in the sleeve, but when the nurse teaches him how to swaddle her, arms and legs tucked in tight, she looks peaceful. He sits down with her in the chair next to Olli and just _looks_ at her. She looks back at him for a while before she starts to doze, and he hands her off to Olli, who tears up again when he holds her. When she’s good and asleep, she gets passed around the families before they head out to go rest.

No one’s really in town to see her, but their phones won’t stop buzzing, congratulations from all over the world. Sid Facetimes them when she’s a few hours old, because he demands nothing less than seeing her in all her glory, and oohs and aahs in ways Geno never would have expected. “Smart girl, waiting to be born on the trade deadline - hopefully she’ll get a little less press time than Subban and Weber being traded.”

She does, but there’s a telltale increase in calls and texts about an hour after TSN first reports the press release from the Penguins organization, some people he hasn’t spoken to in years. It’s a simple, two sentence release, congratulating them both on the birth of their daughter and wishing them all health and happiness, and everyone Geno thinks he’s probably ever played even one game with or against comes out of the woodwork to wish them the best.

Most of them, at least. He deletes the ones that remind him what could happen if he brings her back to Russia, and blocks their numbers. He doesn’t even have it in him to feel angry.

Geno asks to go with her for her tests, watching her kick in reaction when she hears the sounds during the hearing test, and when he gets back, Olli’s eating dinner, handing him a paper as he sits down at the chair by the bed. It has her footprints and handprints they took when they were first getting her cleaned up, but the nurses have filled out the rest of the information.

**_Sofia Malkin_ **

**_Born to Olli and Evgeni_ **

**_July 1st, 2015_ **

**_2:03 pm_ **

**_8 lbs 11 oz_ **

**_21 inches_ **

Geno doesn’t know what to say. He looks at the paper, then at Olli, then at the paper again. “Why?” is all he manages to get out.

Olli smiles wistfully. “Well, I guess I thought she’s all you. She looks like you. She apparently has a temper like you. She even waited to be born on 7/1. She’s your’s, G.”

Geno wants to say she’s theirs, but he can’t seem to get the words past the lump of emotion stuck in his throat. Olli seems content that he’s not trying to argue the point further, and relaxes back into the pillow. “Besides, I wasn’t going to make my poor child write Määttä-Malkin for the rest of their life. This one will be Malkin, and the next one can be Määttä.”

Olli laughs at the stricken face he makes at that. “Next one? This one not two seconds old! Give me ten years, we maybe talk about this again,” Geno jokes, but Olli looks at him completely serious.

“No way ten years. Five, at most,” Olli says firmly, and Geno cannot _believe_ him right now. “Okay, okay, bossy,” he placates, and Olli smiles when he kisses him. 

* * *

Two weeks simultaneously goes by exceedingly slow and blindingly fast. They have an army of helpers throughout the day, but the nights are long and restless. Olli seems to be handling it well, but waking up four times a night to feed is something he has to manage alone. Geno tries to help with diaper changes and midnight soothings when he can, but he can’t give Olli more than three or four hours rest before he’s needed again.

Geno wakes early, but Olli and Sofia are gone already. He checks the nursery, then the sitting room, but his search ends empty-handed; it’s not quite 7 am. He walks downstairs, and notices the alarm is still set - they’re not out for a walk, then. Olli’s not in the den or the kitchen, and he’s not completely surprised when he hears noise come down the hall from the gym.

He watches Olli do a whole set of squats with the bar before he clears his throat, and Olli looks guilty when he sets it down, grabbing a water bottle and taking a drink. Sofia is cooing in the rocker, and Olli leans down to give her a kiss before picking up a set of dumbbells.

“Doctor say okay to exercise?” he asks gently, because Olli’s not exactly one to ignore medical advice, just bend it, and Olli meets his eye in the mirror before looking way.

“They said to take it easy,” Olli answers, arms spread wide, holding the bars straight out before lowering them again. Geno doesn’t miss the quiver of Olli’s left shoulder, and Olli doesn’t miss that he doesn’t miss it.

“Easy,” he muses. “We have different idea of easy.”

Sofia whines, and Geno moves for her before Olli can drop the dumbbells. He props her up against his bare chest, feeling her relax as her cheek presses against the skin there, and whispers some quiet sentences about how her isi should learn to ease up a little. Olli might not understand the vocabulary, but apparently doesn’t miss the intent, and leaves off the dumbbells for stretching with the exercise bands. Geno smiles into the crown of his daughter’s head.

Geno watches Olli and continues his conversation with Sofia, moving on to the topic of sleep and how he can’t wait until she decides sleeping for more than two hours at a time is a preferable option, though he understands her hunger is a priority that he doesn’t blame her for, when she seems interested in the topic at hand, rooting at his shoulder and huffing when nothing is produced.

“She cry soon,” he warns, and Olli comes over to settle on the bench beside him, pulling his shirt over his head and, with a grimace, his nursing band as well. Olli had not complained about single part of the whole feeding process except the band; unfortunately, it was either endure it or leak through every shirt, and one disastrous trip to Giant Eagle cut short when Sofia had hungrily cried in the produce section and Olli’s milk had let down in an instant had led him to wear the band constantly.

Sofia whines urgently, and Olli reaches for her, settling her in the crook of his arm and getting her in place, shuddering at her first loud suckle before she gets a good latch. Olli leans into him as she settles into the feeding, and Geno wraps his arm around him. His body is lean once again, breastfeeding taking care of the remaining baby weight, but he’s lean in a way Geno’s never seen before. His pectorals are swollen from the milk, but the rest of his body has lost most of its’ definition, due in part to both resting while his shoulder healed and the pregnancy. He knows Olli feels the urgency to be back, and not just because Olli sinks into exhaustion against him when he switches Sofia to the other side.

“You hurt yourself,” he says, because he can’t help but worry, and Olli doesn’t answer for a while, stroking Sofia’s face as she suckles herself to sleep. Geno takes her off Olli’s hands, relishing the feel of her as he splays her out against his shoulder, and Olli makes a chore out of putting his band back on; he fidgets with it for a while, then folds his hands in his lap, obviously ready to talk.

“I just want to be prepared,” Olli starts, then hesitates. “In case- I can come back.”

It’s not something they’ve breached, just because they both seem to understand how unlikely it is. Even if Olli can get back into shape after surgery _and_ having a baby, there’s still a huge question of what exactly they are going to do with Sofia when they’re both away. Geno knows Olli wants to bring her along, but he can’t imagine flying on flight after flight with a three-month old baby, waking up three or four times a night before a game when she’s not sleeping well. Yet he can’t imagine leaving her here, with a nanny, or even family. Not without one of them.

“Olli-” he starts, sounding resigned, and Olli looks panicked, cutting him off.

“There are options. Maybe I don’t go on the longer road trips. Or I come back home with her halfway through. If we get a nanny, overnight or two-day trips will be fine. No matter what I’ll miss games, but I can do it. We can make it work.”

“How she eat if you go?” he asks, and Olli doesn’t know how to answer that.

“I could- if I start today, I could pump between feedings. I’ll make more milk and freeze it. She can bottle feed when I’m away. I should have enough time before the season to store up. And any time I’m at home I’ll pump more.”

“Make double milk and lose weight you don’t even have,” Geno points out, and Olli looks miserable. He puts his head in his hands, and for the first time in Geno’s entire time of knowing him, Olli looks like he’s not going to be able to keep it together. Geno gently puts Sofia back in the rocker, hitting the switch so it vibrates, and kneels in front of Olli, taking his hands .

“You right. We make it work. We do it, but I’m think not first game. Too early, she too little. But you be back, this year.”

Geno holds Olli while he cries, so quietly, in the nook of his shoulder. He has complete faith Olli can get back physically by October, but they both know it’s not the right thing; Geno understands not wanting to sit out, to be ready in body and mind and have to watch for reasons out of your control, but there are more important things than pride. He knows they’ll both have to skip games, take turns when they can, but it fills him with a sense of pride, not regret. Nothing in their lives ever seems to be in their control, but they always make it work out. 

* * *

Olli’s first game back is four games in, a homestay against the Maple Leafs; they’re 0-3 to start the season, and itching for a win. Tiina has Sofia in the parent’s box upstairs, and the crowd awws when they welcome Olli back, announcing Sofia’s watching her dads for the first time. The camera pans to Olli, seven guys down from him on the bench, and Olli blushes a deep pink, shyly waving for the crowd on the jumbotron when the announcer congratulates him. Geno has found a way to bond with the newly-arrived Phil Kessel by cracking up at Olli when the camera cuts over to him, and Olli gives him the finger from down the bench as he tries to compose himself, waving for the crowd, too.

 

Geno snipes a goal around 5 minutes in, bouncing it off the post with a resounding ting, and the crowd cheers while a variety of dad-themed songs are played when his goal is announced. Olli raises his eyebrows and gives him a smile as he goes by for a fist bump, jumping over the boards for a shift. He’s feeling smug, hearing them announce the goal, when the crowd roars again, drowning out the announcer.

“Was that Olli?” Lovejoy asks, two guys down, and Tanger laughs down bench as he answers, “yes it was. What are the fucking odds?”

“One-upper,” he teases as Olli skates by for his own celebratory bump, and Olli rolls his eyes, smiling big.

It’s Flower handing out the helmet post-game, and Geno knows he’s not the one being spoken about when Flower starts “to the best new dad on the ice tonight.” Olli got the game-winning goal, and, as Flower goes on to point out, “popped out a kid like a week ago, so no one else has any excuses.” Olli gives them a few words, mostly thanking everyone for their understanding with his erratic schedule, and how excited he is to be able to play when he can. Everyone lines up to give him a hug, and Geno can tell after each squeeze Olli’s just barely managing after not feeding Sofia for nearly five hours, the longest span of time since she was born.

The team lets Olli shower first, giving him a modicum of privacy he would never ask for but undoubtedly appreciates, and Geno helps him undo his band. It’s drenched through, not just from sweat, and Geno doesn’t have to ask to know every single check into the boards was probably enough to make him leak the whole game. They finish and face the reporters, briefly, but Jen gets Olli out early, to the reporters’ chagrin, and he knows Olli’s running up to the box to find his mom and Sofia, looking for some relief. He follows a few minutes later, no new questions after three days of games, and goes to find them.

Tiina is closing the door to the box when he gets off the elevator, and she gives him a kiss on the cheek, saying she’ll see him later. He opens the door quietly, stepping in and closing it behind him, and Olli shoots him a glance over his shoulder, smiling when he sees it’s him. The arena is quiet now, the fans gone, just the hum of the zambonis as they skate across the ice. He kneels down beside the chair, watching Sofia drink furiously, and looks at Olli.

“One to ten, how bad?” Geno asks, and Olli grins.

“Probably a seven,” he answers. Despite how exhausted he must be, in pain from the game and from the time between the feedings, he looks completely, totally blissed out, as if, no matter what happened, all the pain and exhaustion are water under the bridge. “Komarov definitely checked me chest first into the boards on purpose, that fucker. Milk went everywhere.”

Geno takes over the job of burping Sofia when she’s done, giving Olli a chance to just sit and rest for the first time in hours. She zonks out after two big burps, and he gets her in her car seat, ready to go home and get some sleep. Feeding her this late probably guarantees she’ll sleep for at least seven hours, and he mentally rejoices they’ll be able to sleep in until at least dawn.

Geno throws her stuff back in the diaper bag, and extends a hand to Olli, helping him up out of the chair. Geno turns to grab her car seat, but Olli pulls back on the hand he never let go, reeling him back in. For a moment, they’re toe to toe, just looking at each other, before Olli reaches up, making him tilt his head down. When their mouths meet, everything feels so right in the world, a win for their team in the place that might as well be just as much of a home as their house, their daughter cared for and secure, and Geno leans into Olli, enjoying the moment for what it is, knowing every night will not end like this, but holding on to these times as something to yearn for.

Olli pulls back, stroking his face, and leans in for one more quick kiss.

“Let’s go home, G.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for reading this! This was by far the hardest thing I have ever written and has kicked my ass repeatedly since I started my very first draft last May, so to finally finish it feels amazing!

**Author's Note:**

> warnings: age difference between teenager and older 20s, unsafe sex, homophobia
> 
> Olli is not considered intersex in this universe and therefore isn't given the same discretion, but probably reads like that to us, so heads up for that?
> 
> Part 2 should be up no later than Saturday.
> 
> Лучик means like little ray of light
> 
> talk 2 me about why Olli/Geno are true OTP xxooxx


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